In Times Like These
by Yih
Summary: [Haldir x OC] Why did the Elves stay in the 3rd Age? Why did they not leave for Valinor when they had the chance? Why did they stay to suffer the torments of Sauron's darkness? And will Haldir find happiness in the arms of his elf maiden student?
1. Arc 1: The Lost Child Found

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
1: The Lost Child Found (February 4, 2003 to February 5, 2003)  
  
.III. .2791.  
  
The darkness had yet to descend onto the ethereal forests of Lothlorien. But it was beginning to fall onto the surrounding areas, however gradual it was. The light of the sun grew weaker a fraction of the time until the sunlight was no longer strong enough to warm the body, thought it was still able to fill the soul with its light. But even though they didn't want to admit the shadow was falling over their lands, it was approaching. It was coming.  
  
Hints of its arrival had already started to surface, even on the borders of the sacred Lothlorien. Within the revered center of the elves, its Lady closed her beautiful and wise eyes, she had firsthand seen how the hand of Sauron was spreading throughout the lands of Middle Earth. It was hard for her to recall the haunted expression on her dearest daughter, Celebrian without feeling a terrible pain. The fact that it'd happened outside her guardianship of Nenya would forever plague her mind. If only it had happened within the bonds of Nenya, she'd still have her daughter.  
  
But even though it had happened in the Misty Mountains, she should have foreseen what would have happened and Celebrian would still be safe. For since the Second Age, even the area around her home had been beyond safe and filled with the glorious beauty that hinted at the magnificence of Lothlorien. But in the last century, things had started to change as little as it did. No longer did the Galadhrims wander outside of her borders because the place of Nenya needed to be secured and protected beyond all else, even at the cost of the safety outside of her borders.  
  
In the end, had the price been worth it? She, one of the wisest of all elves, was still tormented by her decision, which had cost her the only daughter she had, her only lovely Celebrian. It wasn't only Celebrian that had been lost, there had been many others that had been lost similarly, traveling from Mirkwood and even Rivendell like her own precious daughter.  
  
Glancing down at the mirror, she checked the progress of her twin grandsons, Elladan and Elrohir, both of whom were making haste speed to the center of the elf kingdom, the greatest stronghold. Since Celebrian's departure to the Undying Lands, her grandchildren had been her greatest comfort. For in them, she saw the likeness of her only daughter, especially in Elrohir, who had his mother's gentleness and softness with her ability to calm the stormiest of conflicts.  
  
It had been a while since Galadriel had smiled, but she smiled now as her grandsons made it safely into the protection of Nenya, meeting the group of Galadhrim she had sent to meet them. She was immensely relieved that they were within the security of her lands, so that she could take a rest from the careful watch she'd maintained. Ever since Celebrian's attack and torture from the orcs, she had fears whenever they traveled to her. She couldn't help but keep an eye out for them to make sure they were protected.  
  
"I can see from the joy that you have long been without that the twins of Elrond are safely within our borders," Celeborn stated with a gentle smile so like Celebrian's. "Come with me, my Lady and let us send a message to Elrond so that he knows his sons have arrived safely."  
  
She nodded and took the hand that her husband offered to her. Together, they walked to the seeing room where using their minds, they reached out to Elrond in Imladris, who was undoubtedly waiting in his seeing room for word from them. Holding each other's hands, they glanced toward the direction of Rivendell, reaching out to Elrond, their son by marriage. It wasn't long before their minds connected to Elrond, feeling the worry at the back of his mind.  
  
Greetings Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, greeted Celeborn graciously. I felt that sending word of the safe arrival of your twins would please you. They are within our borders and are being escorted by the Galadhrims. They should be in Lothlorien by nightfall.  
  
BOth of them saw the image of a much relieved Elrond, who gathered his thoughts carefully before he sent them. I am glad to hear that they are safe within Nenya's protection. Though, my sons do not wish to admit it, the road between Imladris to Lothlorien is no longer as safe as it once was. I have heard word that orcs again roam the area.  
  
Yes, for I have seen them, Galadriel responded. Do not fear, if Middle Earth is to fall, the last stronghold will be here. I do hope once a proper escort can be afforded that you send young Arwen back to me to continue her studies.  
  
We will see on that, Elrond replied with reluctance in his mental voice, surprising neither Galadriel or Celeborn. It was well known that Undomiel was his most precious child, being his only daughter. I can continue her studies here, she will not be behind. Besides, you know her gift doesn't lie with enchantment.  
  
She is still sufficient, Galadriel stated firmly. With more practice and my guidance, she will be adept enough at it.  
  
She cannot be groomed like Celebrian to be the next Lady of the Golden Woods, and Celebrian never would have agreed to be the one that followed after you. She was the Lady of Imladris!  
  
Celeborn glanced at his wife with concern because ever since their daughter had departed over the seas to the West, the tension between her and Elrond had been unbearable. Even during their marriage, Celebrian always had to serve as the intermediary between her husband and her mother. It wasn't that Elrond and Galadriel didn't get along; they'd gotten along wonderfully before, which was how Celebrian had met Elrond in the first place. But things had changed once Elrond and Celebrian had gotten married. The tension started because Galadriel felt like she was losing her daughter, who she had groomed to be the next Lady of Lothlorien, her successor.  
  
It was also understandable that the bond between Galadriel and Celebrian had been incredibly strong as she was their only child. Even he had felt a twinge of envy at how close his wife was to their daughter, but he had suppressed it and learned to deal with it. But Galadriel couldn't make the adjust he had when Elrond claimed most of Celebrian's time and energy. As the years had gone by, the strain between Galadriel and Elrond had only worsened.  
  
She was groomed to be the next Lady of the Golden Woods! Galadriel exclaimed. I was training her to succeed me the day that I passed into the Undying Lands. That was the understanding between me and Celebrian.  
  
And you tried to force her to stay after she had neither the will nor the desire to continue in Middle Earth, Elrond remarked with a hint of rising anger, which was not right of you, Galadriel. It is not right for you to try to bend Arwen to your powerful will. I will not send her.  
  
For a moment, Celeborn had expected the worst, especially since he was nowhere near as gifted as his daughter at calming Galadriel's fury. But the frustration on his wife's face faded as she considered Elrond's words. There must be one that comes after Celeborn and I, she stated evenly without a trace of her former agitation. The one, whom I see that best fits is Undomiel.  
  
It cannot be her, Elrond responded with weariness. She is not of Lothlorien and her destiny doesn't lie with there. She belongs in Rivendell, but I will eventually send her to you to continue her studies. Your guidance is more influential to her than mine is. There was a distinct pause before he continued, I thank you for telling me of Elladan's and Elrohir's safe arrival, when there is time, tell them I wish to speak with them.  
  
With those last words, the connection between Galadrial and Celeborn to Elrond was shut off by Elrond's withdrawal from reaching toward them. Once the connection had died, Galadriel turned to face her husband and said in a tone not be argued with, "Tell me when Elrohir and Elladan have arrived for I wish to see them when they arrive."  
  
Watching Galadriel leave him to go off to her rooms, Celeborn wished that things were different and that Cerebrian had never passed into the Undying lands. He didn't know if that would have changed the course of this world, but at the very least, Galadriel's powers would not have diminished as much as they had diminished. The reason that the Galadhrim no longer patrolled beyond the borders wasn't because of the impending darkness, but because Galadriel had faded ever so slightly since Celebrian left.  
  
~  
  
Once Elladan and Elrohir had arrived in Lothlorien, it was Galadriel who was the first to greet them as she met with smiling eyes though her face was solemn as it often was. But both of her grandsons knew when their grandmother was pleased and when she was not, they definitely knew that right now she was beyond delighted with them. Throwing all sense of respectability aside, they rushed to their grandmother and embraced her tightly. For it was Galadriel that reminded them most of their mother, their dear mother.  
  
By nature, Galadriel didn't seem like a warm person, though her heart was filled with warmth. So it was a rare sight indeed to see her embracing even her grandchildren because not only was she expected to behave in a manner fitting the Lady of Lothlorien, but she wasn't type to be open in public. But this was a special occasion because she hadn't seen either Elrohir or Elladan for at least half a century, far too long of a time even for one such as she.  
  
When they drew apart, Elladan and Elrohir were ready to give their grandfather, Celeborn, a hug of their own because Celeborn wasn't as reserved as his wife about public displays of affection. Truly the only one that Galadriel had been outwardly affectionate to had been Celebrian and even then only on rare occasions such as the one they were at. Even the elves within Lothlorien had gathered around the reunion, happy to see that their Queen was once again radiant for they knew how sadden she was when Celebrian had departed, even though it had been well over two centuries.  
  
"It gladdens my heart to see that both of you have safely arrived," Galadriel said softly, her voice carrying a power that had lost none of its potency. Though she had diminished with her daughter's departure, she was the most powerful Queen in all of Middle Earth. "I see now looking upon you how the wisdom has grown in each of you, truly you have gained the insight that was resides within your father and your mother."  
  
Elladan, the more extroverted twin, grinned broadly at Galadriel, though he did not jest as he would if he had been with others. The quieter one, Elrohir stared at his grandmother with a silent intensity that she understood well for it was the same look that Celebrian had given her often. She knew very well how to respond to the gaze, for she had done it many times before.  
  
The gaze that you have on me, Elrohir, son of Elrond and Celebrian, is not unlike the very same one that your mother often used on me. You study, do you not see? There are mysteries that cannot be unlocked quite so easily.  
  
Elrohir broke into a small smile that was far more gratifying than any wide grin of Elladan. It wasn't that Galadriel wasn't fond of Elladan, it was that the link between Elrohir and her was strong, but still not as strong as the one she had with Celebrian. At least with Elrohir here, she was able to forget the keen pain she felt every time she recalled the torment that had torn Celebrian from her.  
  
"I also feel joy that I have behold the most beautiful Elf Queen in all of Middle Earth once more, my grandmother," whispered Elrohir fervently, the very same power echoed in his enunciation as was in Galadriel's statement of greeting. That brought a more apparent smile on her face as she thought of how much Elrohir reminded her of Celebrian, but destiny had already told her that Elrohir wasn't meant to take over Lothlorien, that was meant only for the one that she knew not but would know once her eyes had seen.  
  
Holding her hands out to both of her grandsons, she beckoned them to take them. Once they took hold, she stood with Elladan and Elrohir, leading them up to the seeing room. Along the way, she explained to them that she had talked to their father to tell them they had arrived safely and she told half of the story of why Arwen needed to be back in Lothlorien. It was for Arwen's own good if Arwen was to learn all that Galadriel had to offer. So when the sons of Elrond went to the seeing room to reach for their father with the aid of Galadriel's magic, they had much they wished to discuss with their father.  
  
Father, stated Elrohir straightforwardly, Galadriel has told us of your intentions to keep our sister, Arwen from Lothlorien. You cannot do that for it is in her best interests to study with Galadriel, even if it is not magic that she will derive most. The books here are the most complete to be found anywhere. You must let her come if that is what her heart desires.  
  
There was an amusement in Elrond's reply that was not quite as cheerful and humorous as it sounded. I can see that Galadriel has told you only half- truths. Never would the Lady of the Light sink as far as to lie, but to not fully tell the truth, that is still within her reach. She wishes to make Arwen the Lady of Lothlorien, something that is not desirable to neither me nor her mother before she passed on.  
  
It is not your decision to make, Elladan responded wisely, though he was often the joker of the two when he wanted to be serious he could be quite serious. It is Arwen's.  
  
Yes, father, Elrohir agreed with his older brother, it is Arwen's decision to make. Even if Galadriel is trying to bend Arwen's will, are you not trying to do the same by keeping her away without her deciding for herself? I do not think Galadriel will push Arwen if Arwen did not wish to take the responsibility. For in the end, everything is fated to be as it is to be. Nothing can change that.  
  
Your words contain wisdom beyond your years, remarked Elrond, as do yours Elladan. I will consider your words and when you return to Imladris, I will have made my decision on the matter. If I decide for Arwen to return to the Golden Woods, both of you will accompany her there with a full escort.  
  
Both Elladan and Elrohir bowed their heads in respect as the image of their father faded from their minds. Meeting Galadriel outside, they knew better than to tell her what had happened in the seeing room. Though if she had wanted, she could have eavesdropped easily on the conversation, she was not the type to stoop that low even though she dearly wished to know what had been discussed between the sons and the father. Neither Elladan nor Elrohir breathed a word to her, so she had to wait and it wasn't as if she hadn't waited long before. She knew eventually Arwen would return to her.  
  
~  
  
The time that Elladan and Elrohir spent at Lothlorien passed far too quickly. It wasn't long before they were packing their stuff and gathering the small group of warriors they had brought with them. They numbered only ten, but their group was fast, faster than any orcs that traveled through the area between Rivendell and Lothlorien. As was usual in the partings, Galadriel gave them each a precious gift. To both, she gave them a silver dagger that was made with the most tenuous care and that would warn of the approach of orcs. In their care, she gave them a pendant that had been Celebrian's to give to Arwen.  
  
Their group set out later than they had expected to, but they had made haste speed, escorted by the Galadhrims to the border of Nenya's protection. Once they were out of the boundaries, the entire group noticed how much chillier the air was and how somehow the air felt heavier around them. Their speed was so blinding that it took Elrohir a moment to notice that the dagger strapped to Elladan's side was gleaming a pale blue.  
  
Only in the most urgent of cases was he able to send a mind thought to his twin and only to his twin because of their connection, There are orcs!  
  
The warning caused Elladan to glance down at his dagger and call out to the ones that raced ahead, "Watch out!" His warning came just a second late as the air soon was stained by the foul stench of the dirty orcs. They were lucky however that the group of orcs that they had stumbled upon in their fast flight to Rivendell were as surprised to see the elves as the elves were to see them. Unprepared for the swift act of retribution that Elladan and Elrohir acted on the orcs for the attack on their mother, however long ago it was, caused the orcs to be slaughtered in no time.  
  
It was as Elrohir was about to cut the head off of the last orc that he noticed the white bundle that the orc was carrying so guardedly. Quickly averting his blade so that he didn't harm whatever the orc was carrying, he shouted to one of the archers in the group, who quickly complied and shot the orc with deadly accuracy. Once the orc was dead, Elrohir swiftly dismounted and gathered the bundle that fell to the ground, astonished beyond all else when he saw that it was an elf girl who was hardly more than a child.  
  
The wounds, the bruises, and the blood that stained her clothes that he saw so clearly now reminded him so deeply of how his mother had looked that he was hardly able to contain himself as tears filled his eyes. Taking a ragged breath, he regained his senses when Elladan called out to him inquire if everything was okay. He nodded and held the girl tightly to him, mounting his horse and urging his stallion back to the direction of Lothlorien. "What are you doing?" Elladan cried out.  
  
Whirling his head enough to catch his brother's worried expression, Elrohir explained with haste, "She needs help immediately. She has a wound like mother's. We have to return to Lothlorien as soon as possible!"  
  
"But father is the best healer in the lands!" Elladan exclaimed.  
  
"She won't make it that long way to Rivendell. Lothlorien is much closer." Having said that, he urged his horse forward, taking the same blistering path that they'd taken away from the Golden Woods. Every few moments, Elrohir glanced down at the small elf girl in his arms, hoping that unlike his mother she would make it. Maybe all those many years ago, he'd make a mistake by heading back to Imladris when Lothlorien was closer. Maybe that was the reason his mother had passed over. Hopefully, this time he had made the right decision.  
  
~  
  
The sanctuary that her mirror resided was off limits to all but Celeborn, but even he wasn't allowed to look into it without her consent. Though, he was unable to read minds like his wife, he was able to read the physiognomy of her better than anyone else. From the slight expression on her face, he knew immediately that something was amiss with his fair Galadriel. "What have you seen?"  
  
Looking up from her mirror, Galadriel's eyes were haunted like they had been before, when she had been allow to take a glimpse of Celebrian's memories of the orcs attack. It took a moment for her to answer, "What my eyes have seen are the sons of Elrond stumbling amongst orcs as equally unprepared as they were, yet handling the situation well."  
  
"Then why," Celeborn began softly, "are the eyes of yours filled with such a troubled tragedy?"  
  
Her gaze settled back onto her mirror where she watched Elrohir make his way quickly through forests that still contained lurking danger. In his arms, he held a white bundle that she had gotten enough of a look at to know. From that, she knew that whomever he held had been tortured severely like Celebrian. What lifted her heart somewhat was that Elladan and Elrohir were heading back towards Lothlorien. "With the orcs, there was one other, a child."  
  
Nothing further did she have to tell him because he understood the implication of what she had said. There was nothing the orcs enjoyed more than to torture a child. It made bile rise up in his throat to think about what the child had had to suffer through, something no one should. "They are heading back here?" She nodded. "Then I will ride out to meet them."  
  
Swiftly he left her, heading out to gather the proper, though still rapid enough escort for the Lord of Lothlorien. It wasn't long at all before he left the refuge of his home, making all speed to the direction of Elrohir, Elladan, and the elf child they carried. It took a while to find them, even with the guidance and direction Galadriel gave to him through his mind. But in the end, he found them and in good time because their horses had started to tire and grow weary.  
  
Having thought to bring extra horses, they put Elrohir with the elf child on their fastest horse, together the pair taking off at blinding speed to Lothlorien. Behind them followed the rest of them, only Celeborn's stallion was able to keep up the scorching pace set by Elrohir. As they rode back, Celeborn thought with pure astonishment of his realization that the elf child was an elf girl. Once he knew that, he was certain Galadriel also knew because she was always within his mind. If he was thinking how similar this was to Celebrian, she certainly must have the same thought.  
  
Yes, she did have the same thought. Backing away from her mirror, Galadriel had to take a deep breath to calm the rampant emotions that coursed through her. All the memories that had agonized her mind for the last two hundred years rushed back with a frightening velocity. The dead eyes, the sunken face, the icy skin, the grey pallor, the detached mind, the nightmarish memories, the lost soul... What Celebrian had gone through, she wished on no one. Lost in her thoughts, she was jolted from them when one of her underlings informed her that Elrohir and Celeborn had arrived.  
  
Once she heard of this, she quickly made her way down, stopping only to alert their resident master-healer. It was when she saw the white cloth drenched with blood from a wound so gruesome that even their healer thought the worse. Throughout the entire ordeal, Elrohir never let go of the elf girl, holding her throughout. Finally, the healer could do all that he could do and left to find if there was anymore than he could do.  
  
Afterwards when the healer suggested rest, Elrohir still didn't give up his hold on the girl child, not even to let Galadriel hold her. She caught Celeborn's worried look, and she gave him a reassuring look before taking his hand and leading her out of the room. Having watched the healer undress the child to tend to her wounds, they were all doubtful of her survival because the ravages on her body were enough to kill any full grown elf. Yet at the same time, there was something Galadriel sensed about this child, a resiliency.  
  
As the hours passed, as the days rolled by, the master-healer had stated in an absolutely incredulous voice that the girl child was going to make it. For an entire week, Elrohir had never left her side and Celeborn had only been gone to tend to his duties as Lord, and as for Galadriel, she kept a vigil outside of the room. When the week had passed, some explanations were necessary for Elladan and Elrohir hadn't appeared at Imladris at the appointed time. After hearing the tale, Elrond himself set out to Lothlorien to lend what aid was possible.  
  
Even with his superior healing abilities, the child didn't wake. Elrond wasn't able to convince Elrohir to leave until she had awoken from the coma she was in. The life at Lothlorien had come to a stand still as they waited for the mystery child to open her eyes. Over the time she had been slumbering, they had noticed things that were different from what they had first perceived. They had suspected her of being a child, but she wasn't as young as they had previously thought, though she wasn't of age yet. There was also curiosity over her silver hair because the color was even rarer than dark haired elves.  
  
Lying on the bed, Elrohir stared down at her with reverence and sorrow for even though a month was shorten in time for an elf, it wasn't a good sign. Though she had recovered, she still hadn't opened her eyes. He had stared at her long enough to memorize every plane and angle of her fragile features. She was not as beautiful as Arwen, but he had the nagging suspicion that her beauty was not intended to be exotic like his younger sister, but more delicate and soft, translucent.  
  
As he was studying her face, she opened her eyes, the eyes that were equally rare amongst elves, a deep steel grey. Instinctively, he tried to reach for her, but she avoided him intuitively. "Mela," he said softly, "do you not know me?" She stared at him with her silver eyes, no recognition, nothing in them. "It is okay," he reassured. "You are amongst friends." When he reached for her again, she let him pull her into his lap, letting him hold her as one would hold a child. The closer he looked, the more he saw that her eyes weren't expressionless, that they contained the same pain evident in his mother's.  
  
"Do you know who you are?" he inquired because Celebrian had lost a sense of who she was when she had first recovered. As he stared, he didn't seen any sense of realization pass through her. He didn't see a reaction at all. It alarmed him so much that his grandmother heard his strident thoughts, for it wasn't long before she entered with Celeborn and Elrond following closely behind her.  
  
"I was not wrong," Galadriel stated. "She has awoken." Taking her time, she carefully studied the girl before posing a direct question to the girl, "How are you?" The girl child didn't answer, and when Galadriel tried to probe her mind she found strong resistance that wasn't expected for she was able to go into the minds of most elves without trying. There was more to this elf child than she had thought. "How is she?" she directed her question to Elrohir instead.  
  
He glanced at the girl in his arms, who looked everywhere but where the others in the room stood. He shrugged for he did not know. She didn't speak, she didn't react, and she didn't look at anyone anymore. She did allow herself, however, to be fed by Elrohir and only by Elrohir. The only other person that she allowed to approach her was Celeborn, even Galadriel wasn't able to come to her unless either Elrohir or Celeborn was in the room. It made Galadriel feel strange to be excluded when she had always been included. It made her think about how Celeborn had felt during the close relationship she shared with Celebrian.  
  
Yet as she watched Elrohir feed the girl he called Mela, the interaction between the two of them was strange. It wasn't anything she had seen before, for it wasn't of a man to a woman, nor a brother to a sister, or even a father to a daughter. It was something different, something not quite explainable, but it was special and deep. "Mela," he urged, "please speak to me."  
  
Despite his urging, she didn't nor would she speak. Today was the last day he was to stay in Lothlorien for a long time. The twins had spent far too much time already, and Elrond was recalling them back to Rivendell. "Mela," Elrohir said in a soft whisper, "you need to let Celeborn feed you for I must go, and I do not know when I will return to these parts." She made no response that she'd heard him, that she even understood him but he knew she did. His thoughts were confirmed when he tried to leave and she grabbed his hand.  
  
Staring down with amazement as such a simple gesture for some was miraculous for her, it made him not want to leave but he had to. "I will come back," he told her. The only sign that she gave him that she had heard him was when she let go her his hand and rested her hand on the comforters that covered her. Standing outside of the room, Galadriel wondered if there was more that she hadn't seen.  
  
It was when Elrohir left that Mela turned to the doorway, her startling grey eyes meeting Galadriel's deep blue ones. In that gaze exchange, they Lady of the Light had the sudden epiphany that it was not one of her blood, it was not Arwen that was destined to come after her, it was this mute elf girl. This silver haired, grey eyed girl child that was not a child yet was not a woman. She was the one.  
  
Author's Note: I have always wished/wanted to write a story about elves and here is my attempt. There is a huge amount of background to this story that must be told beforehand, beginning with the 'girl-child' or Mela or elf girl or elf child or simply the mute one. This story will be following along the Fellowship when the time arrives. Until then, I do not know how long this story will be. It has the feeling of a very long story and I have experience with writing long stories, however I do not have much of the 'urge' to finish stories as some authors do. O-o. Which is unfortunate, but I ALWAYS try to finish them.  
  
Feedback is nice & NECESSARY, though constructive criticism is much appreciated. I haven't read the books in a long time so some details may be inaccurate or purposely changed. I've done research on most of the things, unless I already knew them (but memory can be faulty, so corrections are appreciated). A lot of thoughts are imagination on my part, especially the relationships between the characters, such as Galadriel's with Celebrian.  
  
About this story being a Mary-Sue, that is for you to read and judge.  
  
About the pairings of this story, it is I'm pretty sure going to be a Legolas x OC story, though that remains to be seen because Legolas will not be introduced until Chapter 2 at least, if not later into the story. I hope that you will stay with me because I very much DISLIKE relationships that move too quickly with no reasoning behind them. Thanks you for having the patience to read this long author's note. They aren't usually this long = ).  
  
Looking for something original? Try my original novels: Endless Love & Secret: A Tale of Love (Both are infiltrated with my Asian heritage, thus it's different then most stories of love & friendship & family, as both of them are). 


	2. Arc 1: Vision of What May Be

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
Important Note: My "OC" is referred to by different names by different characters in the story. It is explained in the first paragraph, but I thought I should point this out lest you get confuse. To fans of Legolas, the beginning is important for me to get through before he can be introduced into the storyline. He makes an appearance in Chapter 3, how much of one that I am not sure of. Enjoy this chapter!  
  
2: Vision Of What May Be (February 5, 2003 to February 7, 2003)  
  
.III. .2801.  
  
Many years had passed by human standards but still the unusual elf girl that Elrohir called Melaeanaire still had yet to speak, though she now at least reacted to others. The one she was closest to was Celeborn, who named her Estelinde, while Galadriel called her Fanyarelisse. But to those of the Galadhrim, who knew that this girl was Galadriel's chosen successor, they dubbed her Galadhriel, one of the Lady of Lothlorien's many names.  
  
Depending on who was addressing her, they called her by different names, but none of those within Lothlorien had gotten her to speak yet. It had taken a few years for Galadriel to be able to get Fanyarelisse to open up her mind. Once it had happened, she'd been astonished to find the depth of turmoil that her pupil had suffered. Though it'd taken a long time to get any kind of communication with her, it'd taken a year for them to get her out of bed and longer than that to get her out of her room.  
  
It had been unusual in the beginning to see the lost child wandering around Lothlorien. It had alarmed both Celeborn and Galadriel when she had left the safeties of the citadel and journeyed into the forests. After that, they always made sure that those that guarded the forests surrounding their home kept an eye on their adopted daughter. They soon found that she liked more than anything else was to rest on a Mallorn branch and read a tome of Elven Enchantments for her studies with Galadriel.  
  
It took even more time for them to discover that she had a beyond ordinary fascination with the weaponry practices that kept the guards of Lothlorien fit and ready at the call to protect their city. She especially paid attention to Haldir, who was the March Warden, therefore the one who led the armed practices. One day, she had gotten a little too close the practice, causing Celeborn to call out to her, "Estelinde, do not get too close. It is not safe even if it is practice."  
  
She had turned to him and nodded with understanding before drawing away from the practice field. Standing farther away, she stared at Haldir, who was teaching one of the younger and newer elves how to handle a bow and arrow. Then moving along, he corrected the stance of another elf, who wasn't holding his sword properly. There were times when Celeborn came to observe these practice sessions, but his attention was more focused on Estelinde than on the elven soldiers in the making.  
  
When he glanced back to the spot where she had been, he noticed that she was no longer watching anymore. But then he remembered that she had a lesson with Galadriel and Arwen this afternoon, so that was no doubt where she was. Even though she didn't speak, it was clear to him what she desired and he felt compelled to fulfill that wish of hers more than anything else. There was something about her that made him want to protect, part of it was his lack of ability to have protected Celebrian and the other part was that Estelinde was like the daughter he'd never had.  
  
For Celebrian had really been Galadriel's daughter, though Estelinde was Galadriel's protégée, he thought it was right to assume that she was closer to him than she was to Galadriel. Thus, when Haldir had finished with his instruction to the young elves, Celeborn requested to speak to him privately. "I am sure you have been aware of the interest that Estelinde takes in your instruction of the young elves." Haldir nodded gravely, he knew this. "If you have the time, I wish you to instruct Estelinde in any weaponry of her choice."  
  
"What you wish," Haldir responded, "I will do, Lord Celeborn."  
  
After Haldir had agreed to train her, there was nothing for Celeborn to do until Estelinde's lesson with Galadriel was over, for he wished to tell her of the lessons he'd prepared for her with Haldir. He had no idea when she'd be done because depending on what Galadriel felt was necessary, the day was either very short or very long. In a way, he was glad that Estelinde had become her student, but he was also not sure if she was ready for all these pressures for one still so young. It was true they had been incorrect in her age, but she was still only a mere thousand years.  
  
Since Fanyarelisse had opened her mind to her, since she had agreed to be her protégée, Galadriel had felt a life resurgence in herself. Still she missed her true daughter, but Fanyarelisse had grown to be extremely dear to her. The lost child was good for her husband also, she had revived him as well. Though less obvious, she saw that no longer did Celeborn have to put on a facade of contentedness, he was content.  
  
Fanyarelisse, Galadriel said to her, you are doing well. I must work more with Arwen today, since you are not quite ready for what she is learning yet. Take the volume on my desk to your flet.  
  
She bowed, showing that she understood before she left. Heading towards her flet, she stopped when she heard Celeborn call out to her, "Estelinde." She turned around to face her adopted father and wait to see what he wanted to tell her. "From what I have observed, I have seen your wish to learn what Haldir has to teach." She stared at him with her usually emotionless gaze. "I have arranged a time for you and Haldir to meet in the morning so that he may tutor you."  
  
Again, she made no response. All she did was pass by him and head toward her favorite Mallorn tree. Climbing up the tree to a branch high above, she ignored Celeborn much like she ignored other that tried to reach her when she did not want to be reached. She opened the book about the lore of foretelling and lost herself in the text. Below her, Celeborn watched her until far too much time had passed. It seemed she didn't feel like communicating to him.  
  
~  
  
The next morning however, she appeared at the appointed spot at the arranged time where Haldir was waiting, though he hadn't really expected her. Even though, she had been in Lothlorien for ten years, no one had really gotten a glimpse longer than a few seconds of their Silver Lady as she was called or Galadhriel. When she went out, she wore a cloak that hid her features from view.  
  
Now, he got a good long glance at the girl that many said was going to succeed his Lady of the Light. It startled him to think that perhaps she may be as lovely as Galadriel with her silver flowing hair, her grey piercing eyes. What made her fragile beauty not quite as delicate was the scar that ran down her cheek. She was also taller than he'd expected, yet she wasn't that tall for an elf maiden.  
  
He wasn't surprise that she didn't speak, for no one had ever heard her speak. What he did was instruct her by showing her the steps on how to use a bow before he handed her one. Standing behind her to guide her in case she needed the help. But from the way she held the bow, he knew immediately that she knew how to use one. Taking an arrow from his quiver, she aimed with a steady hand and hit the target easily. It was no beginner's luck because her movements had the skill that only came from much practice. She was good with the bow, but no better than the general guardian archer at Lothlorien, nothing miraculous.  
  
Teach me something else, she requested, placing the bow back into his hand, which he swung onto his athletic physique.  
  
His eyes widened this time with shock at hearing her voice in his head. Never had he heard of an elf that had that great ability other than Galadriel. From all that he knew and heard, this girl was mute. Looking down at her discerning eyes, he saw amusement, surprising him once more. His younger brothers often complained about how like a statute he was, being so expressionless. Yet at this time, his face was filled with definite emotions.  
  
"Then what would you want me to teach?" he asked with a sharper edge than he'd intended. But it was normal for him because he usually spoke with a sarcastic wit. "What do you wish to learn?"  
  
His caustic tone did not bother her, she only gazed into deep blue eyes with her solemn grey ones, the hint of hilarity gone, erased. He thought maybe he had just imagined it. Lost in that musing, he didn't catch what she was doing until it was too late to stop her. Withdrawing both of the long knives attached to his side, she tested their weight in her hand before she placed them into his hands. She didn't say anything, only glancing down fixatedly at the long knives pointedly.  
  
There was nothing else for him to do other than to show her how to use them. When he finally thought, he'd demonstrated enough to her to give her a try at them, he found that her skill was much better with the boy because her long period of inactivity had dulled her dexterity. Many times, he had to repeat to her the same action so that she caught on.  
  
At the same time, her ability to predict his moves greatly aided her initial lack of speed, but as they practiced more as the seasons melted from winter to summer, she improved drastically. At first, he'd taught her out of his duty as March Warden, but now he looked forward to instructing her when she wasn't busy with her lessons with Galadriel. Those sessions sometimes occupied her for days, even weeks at a time. The difference between her and the other elves he taught was that sparring with her was as much as a mind game as it was a physical contest.  
  
Such was the case this morning, which was why he'd disarmed her so quickly. She'd been too busy with the texts Galadriel had given to her to read that she hadn't practiced what he had taught her. At the end of their session, she had regained most of her previous skills. Keeping his smile to himself, he decided to test if she was ready for a new challenge by tossing her a sword, a weapon she was lacking in knowledge of.  
  
From the look over spot in the seeing room, Galadriel observed Fanyarelisse with keen interest. Her pupil was good at wielding the long knives, as good as she was with the bow. Her ability with the sword left much to be desired, but the day she had to use her battle prowess was still a ways away. With her knowledge of both enchantment and weaponry, this was the right time to test her.  
  
The only one who she expected to object was Celeborn, who was as protective of Fanyarelisse as she had been over Celebrian. But it was time for her student to leave the haven of Nenya and venture out. There was no one she entrusted the task other than Arwen, who she was sending to Rivendell. Yes, it was possible to communicate with Elrond through the seeing room, but there was too much to pass on and Arwen had been gone from Imladris for long enough. A visit was good for her like it was good for Elrond. So only Fanyarelisse was available to journey to Mirkwood.  
  
"I see that you have something on your mind," Celeborn remarked as he entered into the seeing room to observe his Estelinde's practice with Haldir. Galadriel didn't respond to his statement, commenting instead, "Her skill has grown. She is quite adept."  
  
He nodded. "Yes, she is. Despite her lack of strength, she makes up for it with her speed and her ability to predict her opponent's next move." His wife smiled as she watched her husband stared with rapture at their adopted daughter's rather awkward try to defend herself from Haldir's offensive. This was as good of a time as any to broach the subject at hand.  
  
"In the mirror, I foresaw the end of the days of elves," she stated in a tranquil serenity, her beautiful blue eyes tragic. "Mordor will rise, and perhaps even the race of men will face their end. Middle Earth may be enslaved, and Sauron may reign supreme." She paused dramatically. "I am sending Arwen with the images I have seen and she has memorized to Imladris... and I will send Fanyarelisse to Mirkwood."  
  
A sense of foreboding rippled through Celeborn's body. He didn't want Estelinde to go, but he realized that she was the only one capable for Galadriel had only taught three her knowledge: Celebrian, Arwen, and Estelinde. But Celebrian and Arwen has been studying with her for hundred of years, while Estelinde had for only a mere decade. "Are you certain that she is ready?"  
  
"As certain as I am of anything," his wife answered directly. "You know I do not push when I know they are not ready. Fanyarelisse is ready." There was still uncertainty in his eyes, and she laid an understanding hand on him, comforting him as he had reassured her once. "Dangerous times are approaching, hervenn. We must prepare her before that time comes."  
  
Slowly, he nodded his head with agreement. "When does she leave?"  
  
"When Elladan and Elrohir arrive to bring their sister back to Rivendell," she responded. "The group will depart together from Lothlorien."  
  
~  
  
This was to be their last lesson for a long time, Galadriel thought. Arwen wasn't even here today for Galadriel had sent her to her flet to pack up her belongings for the trip home. But Fanyarelisse still didn't know of the journey she had planned for her pupil. For Celeborn to let her go, there was to be a full escort led by the most trusted and loyal elf in their realm, Haldir. A small smile graced her lips at her preliminary astonishment that Haldir had agreed to go since he was normally reluctant to leave. Then again the bond between teacher and student was strong. For it was the same with her, but as the Lady of the Golden Woods, she was not able to go.  
  
The moment that Fanyarelisse stepped over the threshold to the library, Galadriel knew of it. So you have arrived, Fanyarelisse, she greeted. I have much to discuss with you, please sit down. As she was asked to do, Fanyarelisse sat down on the chair across from her adopted mother and mentor. You have heard that Arwen is departing to Imladris to send the vision that I have had of what may come to be, and you, you are to go to Mirkwood to deliver the vision I am about to place into your mind to their King Thranduil.  
  
Reaching across the table, she touched Fanyarelisse's forehead with her hand and thought of the destruction, the turmoil, the desolation, the torment, the disaster that may yet be true. It was a terrible thing to put her adopted daughter through after the unimaginable anguish she had suffered through, yet it was necessary for her to carry this clear prophesy of what was to be unless something was done. Galadriel knew that despite Fanyarelisse's opening of her mind, she had not freely given all of what she remember of that nightmare.  
  
Her grey eyes rolled back into her head as she saw, saw the blood and the tears and the sweat and the death that filled the world of Middle Earth. The black smoke that smothered the air of Mordor swept over the rest of the land, forcing the world into the darkness that had no end. She felt the grief, the suffering, the misery, the tragedy as all the good people mourned their end. The end of the days of elves. The end of the days of men. The end of the days of all the free folk.  
  
From my mind, these are now in your mind, said Galadriel soothingly. There is more of yet what may come, this is only what can be, there is the possibility of reversing fortune and creating a new likelihood. What courses we take, what plans we make, that will determine this age ends.  
  
Sometimes, only sometimes did Fanyarelisse speak and then it was only a few words. This time seemed right to say something, but the words forming in her mind didn't contain enough meaning for her to bother sending Galadriel her thoughts. Instead, her intense eyes focused on Galadriel's and they shared a look of understanding that went beyond words.  
  
When the sons of Elrond arrive, her adopted mother continued, you will set off with them with Haldir as your escort to Mirkwood. Prepare yourself, they will be arriving soon. Standing up and bowing low, her protégée left to go to her flet and do precisely what Galadriel had told her to do, prepare for what was to come. She watched her adopted daughter leave and hoped that her mirror once again would show her something that was beautiful.  
  
Looking at her belongings, she had not much that she valued to take. There were the two long knives given to her by Haldir that she would take, a fine low bow from Celeborn that she could use, and a small worn book of songs that Arwen sang to her that Galadriel had gifted her. These were what were precious to her; these were what she was going to take. There was nothing else. Without a backward glance, she departed her flet and made her way to where all visitors had to go through.  
  
~  
  
Ever since they'd reach the boundaries of Lothlorien, Elladan hadn't been able to get Elrohir to speak. As was usual, they were being escorted by the Galadhrims. What was unusual was that Haldir wasn't amongst them. As the March Warden and Head of Guard, he seldom allowed himself to be off duty. Elladan missed Haldir's sharp tongue, sharp enough to take his thoughts off his weariness. But Haldir was missing from their escort, most strange.  
  
"You will see her soon enough," Elladan remarked. "I do not see why you must be anxious. I doubt that your Melaeanaire forgets the one who rescued her from her doom."  
  
Elrohir turned to his older brother, who had over the past ten years had never quite understood how badly he wanted to see her again. A part of him didn't know why he'd been kept from Lothlorien for so long, and only now was he being permitted to return. Not many years had passed for elven kind, but still a good amount of years forone as young as she, and she had known him for only a month, was that long enough for her to remember him in the midst of all the agony she had survived?  
  
It seemed he was to find out momentarily as their group arrived at the gates of Lothlorien. Still, after all the times he had been here, the beauty still struck him. Once the sight had filled him with the feeling of purity and light, he started to gaze upon the elves that gathered to greet them. The first one he focused on was his grandmother as it always did, it wasn't too long before his gaze wandered, trying to find Melaeanaire.  
  
Nothing has changed or has it? came the humorous inner voice of Galadriel. Things have changed, you look not for me nor for Arwen but for her. Do not deny, it is clearly written.  
  
That shifted his gaze back to Galadriel immediately. It never failed to draw his attention when she did that to him; it made him realize why his grandmother was revered by elves from all over like his father. There was power and dignity and purity about her that was the same feeling he received from Elrond. Her very stare penetrated into his soul, a power that he knew no one else had.  
  
"Greetings for Imladris," Elladan declared, bowing before the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien. "Our father said you requested us to journey here for you have a task for us. Whatever it may be, we vow to complete it."  
  
Galadriel tilted her head in acknowledgement of what the elder had sworn for the both of them to do until the end was in sight. "Yes," she began softly, "there is a task, there is an undertaking that I ask of you two sons of Elrond, to take your sister, Arwen, back to Rivendell for there is a grave matter that she must with her mind show to Elrond. You will accompany Fanyarelisse, whom you call Melaeanaire until the path splits to Mirkwood for there is more danger in the departing than there is in the arriving."  
  
It was then that they saw both Arwen and a figure cloaked in white appear next to Galadriel. Elrohir knew it was her, it had to be she. With an impulse born of many a nights of thinking of her, he rushed toward her, unable to stop himself from pushing the hood aside. Yes, it was her. Yet, it was not how he remembered her. "Mela," he murmured, "Melaeanaire, I kept my promise to return."  
  
The gaze between them was long and filled with tension, not once during the duration did a single emotion appear on her face. He had hoped that something would happen, that there'd be recognition. But there was nothing, nothing at all. It was his grandmother's soothing voice that broke the unendurable silence, "Fresh horses have been prepared, you must leave immediately."  
  
Elladan nodded and called out orders for the elves of Rivendell to switch out their horses with the new ones, while Elrohir pulled himself from her steady, alluring gaze. He moved with much effort to do what his twin had commanded, but like before when he had tried to leave, he grabbed his wrist to prevent him from leaving. But unlike last time, he didn't have to ask her to let him go. As soon as she had grabbed his wrist, she had let go of him like she had been burnt.  
  
Part of him urged him to continue on and not look back, but another part of him told himself he'd regret it if he walked away. So he turned back and saw there was something in her steel grey eyes. It was a desperation and a struggle, a sadness that went deeper and deeper than the darkest caves of Moria. A sudden feeling overpowered him and he took her by the arms, pulling her into his arms. A shock rippled through those around for no one had ever seen her allow someone to get that close to her.  
  
This time it was Celeborn, who broke the unsettling quiet, "The horses are ready." After this declaration, he went to his adopted daughter and held his arms out to her. There was a yearning in him to receive the same public display of affection, yet she didn't move to him right away. But she went to him in time, and she wrapped her arms around the one whom loved her as a true daughter. When she drew away from him and from where she was, she said her good-byes to the only mother she knew. What you ask, I can do. Do not fear, do not doubt.  
  
Yes, you are ready, Galadriel responded full of warmth. In you, there is a potential that is still untapped. When you return from Mirkwood, there is much I need to pass onto you before the time of what may be comes. In your return, you will be ready for all that I can teach. Go now, for that is your path.  
  
Pulling her back on, she walked to the horse Haldir held for her. After helping her onto the grey mare, he swung up behind her because she had never been taught to ride a horse yet. It was safer if she had someone with her to protect her and he would protect her with his life if that was what he was called to do. From where Elrohir was, he watched all this with discerning eyes. There was a close relationship between the two, developed over the years he had been gone. If he hadn't left her, where would they be?  
  
Once again, Elrohir felt Galadriel's perceptive focus on him, so he urged his mount forward, letting his stallion match Arwen's white mare. "Arwen," he declared, "father has missed you greatly."  
  
She smiled, a truly breathtaking sight. "I wish she was going to Rivendell with us, I want father to meet her. She is not like other elves I have known. There is something about her that is not of the elves of this realm."  
  
"What do you mean?" he queried, his voice coming out more defensively than he meant it to.  
  
Elladan, who had been giving the farewell for the group, caught up to them in time to hear their conversation. "She means that there is something surreal about her. She does not seem like the rest of the elves of Middle Earth," he added helpfully.  
  
"You only say those words because she doesn't not speak!" Elrohir exclaimed. "That is the only reason you say that!"  
  
"She speaks as Galadriel speaks," Arwen stated softly, "of the mind and not of the ears."  
  
"Have you heard her then?" Elladan asked, vocalizing Elrohir's thoughts. She shook her head. She had not been gifted with hearing Melaeanaire's inner voice yet.  
  
"Then how do you know?" Elrohir queried in a voice quite unlike him.  
  
Arwen gave him a direct look of reprieve. "Do you not know when Galadriel speaks though you hear not?" It was a moment before he accepted that what she said was true, for he did know. "It is the same as with her, though she speaks in that way infrequently and only to a chosen few."  
  
"Then whom does she speak to?" Elrohir tried to ask casually, but it was hard for him to hide his intense interest. He feared he already knew the answer when Arwen glanced meaningfully toward the beginning of the group, where the Galadhrim that were accompanying their Silver Lady were. As his gaze made its way to the center of the group, he saw Haldir protectively holding Melaeanaire. No, he was not jealous, no that was not the emotion he felt. He merely felt disappointed that it was not him that she spoke to.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: (on plot) All elves will be important in this story. Eventually, this story will be following the Fellowship, but there is at least 4 chapters that are based PRE-Fellowship. I have not decided yet which storyline I will be following, I'm leaning toward the movie storyline because it's shorter or I may decide to intermix details between the book and movie, as said I am undecided.  
  
(On 'Mela') her name will be clarified in chapter 3 (hopefully). Melaenaire (the holiest little one), Fanyarelisse (sweet heaven), and Estelinde (hope song/faith song). You cannot sway my mind on the name for I have already decided it. As for the "OC" herself, there is not a clear picture of her nor is there suppose to be, you see her through the eyes of the other characters because who is she? Is she who they think she is? Is she who she thinks she is? Does she even know who she is? This story is as much of an adventure of epic portion as it is an adventure of the unimaginable depths of the mind.  
  
(on Mary-Sue's & Love @ 1st sight) I'm not a big fan of the characters falling in love so quickly because it simply is not realistic, so if you're looking for a fast pace romance this is not going to that type of story. Yes, there will be romance, but discovering the complexity of my "OC" is what the plot is driving at because so far, nothing has been revealed about her except through "two lines" she has mind spoken. There is more to her than one may think. (about this being a Mary-Sue) Call it what you will, I cannot stop you, can I?  
  
I do apologize for another long AN (author's note) & I hope that for all the effort I put into the story that you will REVIEW, and let me know what you think. Thank you. 


	3. Arc 1: Where the Elves Will Go

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
3: Where The Elves Will Go (February 8, 2003)  
  
.III. .2801.  
  
At the front of the group, Haldir halted, holding his hand up as he listened keenly to the eastern direction. Elladan and Elrohir, who were not far behind also turned to that direction and immediately strung an arrow onto their bows. The rest of the escort behind them did the same in almost simultaneous fashion for the two full guardian groups that had set out were all seasoned warriors. It was not long before the orcs they had heard and smelled appeared from the East.  
  
Once they were seen, a volley of arrows skewed into their first charge, but to the elves' complete shock there were still a goodly number of orcs left. Quickly they all grabbed another arrow and shot once more, but most did not get the second shot before the orcs were without a sword's length. Haldir, being at the forefront of the group, leapt off of the mare, telling the mare sharply to get Galadhriel to safety. The mare was prepared to do what her rider had asked when the Silver Lady on her back slid off.  
  
Unnoticed by Haldir, she withdrew the twin long knives given to her by him from their sheath, ready to fight along her teacher's side. But it was when the leader of the orcs saw her and headed to her that a sense of utter panic swept through her. Those hideous, awful eyes bore down on her with a determination, a purpose that was as lamentable as the one she had tried to forget without any success. She managed to lift her right arm up to protect her, but it wasn't soon before he had disarmed her and was about to plunge his sword into her stomach when Haldir shoved her out of the way.  
  
A terrible expression of pain and grief was in her eyes as she watched her teacher take the blow that was meant for her. Yet, she was not able to find the strength to come to the defense of Haldir, she stood paralyze by the fear those eyes had driven into her once more. All she could do was crouch down into a ball, shaking, trembling, rocking back and forth as the fear that had overpowered her once took over her again. The past ten years she had tried to forget, but no those memories did not disappear. Over the time, she had been able to push it to the back of her mind, though they were not erased.  
  
It was Elladan that saw that Haldir needed aid as two other orcs decided to help their leader, the two skilled elves fought off the attack. It was really about Elladan, since Haldir's left arm was useless and his right was not as good as his left. But her teacher still managed to fend off and ultimately kill the orc that had injured him, while Elladan gave the other two orcs quick death. She wasn't even aware of the danger she was in the midst of, too lost in her reoccurring nightmare when Arwen and Elrohir jerked her away, under the cover of their protection as the rest of the Galadhrim formed a protective circle around their Silver Lady.  
  
Everything moved slowly, though the fight had ended swiftly. She watched with eyes of agony as she surveyed the death and destruction, not many elves had been killed, only one, not many had been injured, only a dozen. But the images before her blended into another reflection drawn from deep inside of her mind that was filled with gore, violence, and death. Her eyes gradually regained focus, but when Elrohir tried to approach, she backed away until her spine hit the trunk of a blood smeared tree.  
  
Neither would she allow Arwen close, it was only Haldir that could come to her. It was once he was at her side that she saw the hideous wound done to his arm, echoes of her former pain overwhelmed her and her eyes rolled back into her head. Too much suffering, too much anguish, this world was tainted. There was no beauty in the blood and sweat and dirt. Where had it all gone?  
  
"Galadhriel," she heard Haldir's voice call out to her in the maze she was lost in, "Fanyarelisse... Estelinde..." None of those drew her from the depths she had fallen, none of them made her want to travel from the darkness in her mind to the darkness of the world. "Tithen min," he whispered into her ear, "im wad to protect you with my life." (Little one, I promise)  
  
She opened her eyes. She knew of his vow. She did not doubt his word. No, she doubted the strength of her own heart. There were things that they did not. There were things that even she did not want to admit. There were circumstances that she had been through that she had not even shown Galadriel. Yet, the vividness of her memories still deprived her of who she was. She remembered the days and the weeks of her torture, but she did not recall who she was.  
  
"Melaeanaire..." Elrohir whispered, "Mela, you are stronger than you know."  
  
She did not look at him, but he did not feel slighted for she touched his hand before going to Arwen and leading her to Haldir, for Haldir was in pain. Arwen knew what she was asking, she was asking in her own subtle way to heal the one that had saved her from more pain, perhaps even death. Not for anyone would Arwen use the elven healing rituals she had learnt from Elrond, but for the adopted daughter of Galadriel, she would. Chanting softly, she placed her hand over Haldir's nasty wound, as she chanted faster and faster, a soft silver gleam appeared, closing the gash and healing it.  
  
More time had been taken than necessary to regroup, but it was decided that it was best if the two groups split up and traveled their own way for the larger group made for slower going. It was all about the time and the speed for though the orcs were fast, their horses were still faster. Both groups now were heading with all the swiftness of many fervent callings to Elbereth for good wishes and safe journeys to their respective destination, Imladris and Mirkwood.  
  
~  
  
From where Celeborn sat at the head of the table in the long hall, he dropped the wine crystal glass he held and bowed his head down in pain as the darkness overwhelmed him like he had never felt before. As he reached with him mind, he found the source of the pain. He was powerful, an elf with the magic abilities to equal his wife, but the skills of mind were her strong point. It was then he knew why Galadriel had taken Estelinde as her pupil for his adopted daughter had Galadriel's gifts.  
  
With concern, his wife focused on her husband, trying to discern what was wrong, it was while she tried to delve into his mind that she caught the turmoil that was rushing from Fanyarelisse. It was nothing she was not aware of, the reason for assigning her adopted daughter to this mission was for her to face a trial and overcome it. She had not expected the test to happen as soon as it had, but there was nothing no one could do. It had already happened. Reaching for Arwen's mind, she easily saw that everything was fine, no true harm had come, though she mourned the loss of one of the Galadhrim she had sent out to protect their Silver Lady.  
  
"You have felt it too," Celeborn stated, his vision having cleared enough for him to see what had passed over Galadriel's bewitching blue eyes briefly. "Is she okay? I do not have the skill you have in reading minds, feeling minds."  
  
She is as well as you and I, his wife said soothingly. There is still much of her destiny to unfold, to lose her is to bring peril onto Lorien for she, she is the one that is to come after me. She may not know it, but her gift is more than being able to read minds. In her, there is hope in wielding the Mirror.  
  
He felt a dread rise up in him that his Estelinde may have the ability to foresee for though a rare skill to have, made all the rarer when the High Elves left for Valinor, it was also a horrible power to have. Many a night in Galadriel's youth under the tutelage of Melian, he had seen how his love had struggled with the cursed gift. For once the gift was realized, there was no way to forget it. The thing about seeing the future was that one did not choose what to see, it came on its whim and though not always true, the possibilities were probable.  
  
~  
  
After many days of hard riding and little rest, even the keenest of elven sense were getting dull, which was how a Mirkwood patrol managed to come upon with scarcely a warning having been said on the Galadhrim group. Of all the elves in the group, it was definitely their Silver Lady, who was doing the worst. It wasn't the physical hardship that had weakened her, but the mental strain. For the days they had journeyed, not even Haldir could get a reaction out of her. She was very much trapped by her living nightmare.  
  
It was with much relief when Haldir spotted the elves of Mirkwood because before strangers, his Silver Lady never showed anything but an unbreakable face of marble, if she showed her face at all. It was no different when she saw the riders appear, her decision to pull the hood over her delicate features did not take him by surprise. Few in Lothlorien had really gotten a good look at her. Though, he wasn't certain why she hid her face from the eyes of elves because despite the scar her torturers had left her, she was a rival to even Undomiel's beauty to him.  
  
Riding at the forefront of the Mirkwood group was none other than the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf himself. Even she had to admire his unnatural beauty, his long blond hair and pure blue eyes were captivating. In him, that was the true mold elven beauty was based on, much like her adopted parents were. Elves equated to ethereal golden beauty. Yet, it was his confidence in himself that truly made her pay attention to him for beauty could fade as she had learned. His innocence was startling in one of his age. She saw he had no experience with the evil that lurked in the lowest levels of Middle Earth, how could he when he had such an easy, welcoming smile?  
  
It was with relief that the Mirkwood elves greeted their elven kin because for a brief moment, they had thought the riders were that of the Nazgul. Those nine riders of the Dark Lord had traveled through their forests recently, searching for something of no good. Whatever they had been seeking had fortunately not been found in this region, but to have a group of Galadhrims in their woods told them there was a matter of urgency. What it was, they knew not.  
  
For a moment, Legolas thought the Lady of the Golden Woods had come to grace Mirkwood with her light because there was one cloaked in white surrounded by the Galadhrims' protection. But he did not think, upon closer inspection, that the legendary Lady would ride in the arms of any elven male. He picture her independent and more surreal. His suspicious were confirmed when the one who rode with her addressed them, "I am Haldir of Lorien, we give fair greetings from our fair Lord and Lady of Lothlorien and have a message of utmost importance for your King Thranduil."  
  
"Whatever must be given, can be received by me," Legolas declared, "for I am the Prince of Mirkwood."  
  
Haldir shook his head gravely. "That cannot be for I was given the task of delivering the messenger only to Lord Thranduil of Mirkwood, my pardons Prince Legolas." The two exchanged a stare, where each measured the other up, for both were the best warrior among their people. After a while, the Prince's eyes drifted toward the cloaked figure that was protectively guarded by Haldir as if beyond priceless. He was curious and wanted to know whom the figure was when a most glorious voice filled his head, Do not ask to know one no one knows.  
  
There was not a doubt in him that it came from her. He was greatly astonished that a she-elf had accompanied the legendary Galadhrims. Then again, he now sensed the soft aura of power that surrounded her. He was hit with the epiphany that it was because of her that the journey had been made. She was the reason that the Lorien elves had come for she was the messenger.  
  
From his stunned expression, Haldir assumed that his Galadhriel had spoken to the Prince of Mirkwood, thus while Legolas was distracted, he pushed his request forward, "May we continue on, Lord Legolas? For the message that our Lady has to give is only for your father."  
  
Gradually, Legolas got over his daze to give his consenting nod, "Welcome kin to the forests of Mirkwood, we will guide you to our home."  
  
~  
  
"So the time has come," Elrond remarked after seeing all that Arwen had to show him of Galadriel's vision, "where the consequences of man's failure are truly to surface and spread blight across all the lands. This did not have to happen if the strength of men, the hearts of men had not failed. Then again, they are men, what can be expected? Nothing but for this. History is repeating itself. It has already begun. It is worse than I feared. There is still a choice that has to be made... do we stay to watch the doom of all that is good or do we go to the Undying Lands and forget of all that will come to pass?"  
  
The question the great Elrond pose was not merely for the decision of his family nor for the elves of Rivendell... it was a decision all the elves on Middle Earth must answer for it was only together they still were strong. Elrohir and Elladan shared the same expression of uncertainty as did their younger sister, Arwen. For in the end, all elves eventually went to Valinor, so was it any difference if they went earlier or later?  
  
"Will we stay to watch the end of Middle Earth for if what you have shown to me of Galadriel's vision comes to be it is not the days of elves we will be fighting for but for the days of men to continue. We no longer have the numbers nor the strength for the elven kind to be what it was." Elrond's gaze was steady and serious and strong. "The Council of Eldar must be called." He directed his gaze to his twin songs. "You both must go to Mirkwood and let them know of this, for I must speak to Galadriel and Celeborn." He shifted his look toward Arwen. "You will accompany me to the seeing room."  
  
~  
  
She stood before the King of Mirkwood with her face still cloaked next to Haldir, who was the one who greeted the King, "I am Haldir of Lorien, March Warden and Head of Guard, and this is the Lady Melaeanaire Fanyarelisse Estelinde Galadhriel o Lorien, the adopted daughter of the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien."  
  
"Does the girl not speak?" Thranduil demanded.  
  
Haldir shook his head. "No, my Silver Lady does not speak how you and I speak but in methods known only by few. The Lady of Light herself has sent my Silver Lady to show you a message that only she can give to you."  
  
"Will the child at least show her face?" asked the King.  
  
The March Warden glanced at Galadhriel, it was not something that even he could ask of her. For it was by her whim who was allowed a glimpse of her. He heard the whispers of the crowd, the wonder and the curiosity of why the girl did not show her face. Perhaps, she was ashamed because those from the blood of Galadriel were gifted with extraordinary beauty. Celebrian, Galadriel's daughter had been the image of her mother, while her daughter, Arwen, was said to be the likeness of Luthien, the fairest elf to grace Middle Earth. Yes, perhaps it was embarrassment.  
  
She drew away from Haldir's side and walked up the steps to where Thranduil stood. Before all eyes, she bowed before him and pulled the hood off of her fair head. It had been ages since any elf in Mirkwood had seen true silver hair like the silky tresses on her head. When she stood up, tall and proud, her grey eyes caught the blueness of their King and through that locked gaze, she fed him the horrible images Galadriel had imprinted into her own memories. Her message carried more power than Arwen's for unwittingly, she had added her own pain into the illustrations she sent him, the prophecy of what may happen.  
  
During this exchange, the Prince of Mirkwood stared at both his father and this mysterious Lady, who had such power as to frighten elven children. He wondered what she was telling his father because he sensed something was going on between them, something that caused the clear blue of his father's eyes to darken. When their contact broke, he watched as the Silver Lady crumbled to her knees, unable to bear the weight of her burden. He was about to rush to help her, but her protector beat him to her.  
  
Holding a hand out to her instead of just lifting her into his arms, for he knew that would not please her. She looked at the hand and refused it, getting up on her own power, pulling the hood back on. Only those that stood near Thranduil had gotten a good glimpse of her. So whispers spread amongst the Mirkwood elves quickly, some rumors were that she was even more beautiful than Undomiel. Other said that she was terrible to look upon, that beneath the cloth hid a face no one found lovely. But all stories agreed when she departed from Mirkwood as soon as she'd appears that her hair was the finest silver ever seen.  
  
Legolas watched her departed, feeling strange. It wasn't that her beauty left an impression on him, he wasn't so sure she was beautiful, only that she was unusual. For never had he seen a scar on any elf before, for to have actually scarred meant that the elf had been through enough to have passed through the Halls of Mandos. He had been too caught up with the scar that began at her cheek bone and spread down to the corner of her lips to notice anything else. How brave she must have been to survive that experience. How mysterious she was.  
  
Later that very night in Thranduil's private room, the King related to his son, Legolas, all that the Silver Lady had impressed upon him. The only difference from Arwen's message to Rivendell was that she had warned the Mirkwood King additionally that his was the first of the elven strongholds to feel the coming darkness head on. Be prepared, she'd warned him with the pictures she's infiltrated into his mind. Be strong for unless he was, Mirkwood would succumb and fall.  
  
~  
  
There was not much that Galadriel and Elrond saw with the exact same opinion, but on this issue concerning the fate of Middle Earth, they beyond concurred. What was left now was for Elrohir and Elladan to return with word from Thranduil, the last other true elf stronghold. There were others, of course, but scattered and not as heavily significant as Mirkwood. The only other place of significance was Mithlond and Rivendell kept in strong contact with them. In the end, all elves had to agree for them to set their sights upon the future. For as Elrond had voiced, it was together that they had a chance.  
  
If we stand and do nothing, Arwen voiced, there will be nothing left in Middle Earth. If we were able to stop the destruction, if we were able to prevent the end, is that not worth a chance? Is eternity worth knowing that others have no hope of having hope? I do not know much of any of what you have experienced, but to stand and do nothing is not like you, father.  
  
No, Galadriel agreed, that is not like the Elrond that my Celebrian fell in love with. Then again, he did not have three children that mean more to him than anything else in the past. Even if we stay, even if we fought, if what is meant to be is meant to be, there is nothing we can do to change what will come. We can fight, we can struggle, we can even endure--- that will not change what is already being written.  
  
Is there any loss in the staying? Arwen asked. If Mordor corrupts all Middle Earth, if Mordor bends and enslaves all the free folk, if Mordor rises to the level unbeknownst to any, can Mordor not find the way to Valinor?  
  
Only the Eldar know the way to the Undying Lands, Celeborn added soothingly. That will not come to be, but Arwen's heart is noble like her mother's. Do we not all agree that the best course we have to take is to do what we can, for we are blessed beyond all Illuvatar's children? In our death, we go to the Hall of Mandos, there is no grief in that, no sorrow. The call to the sea is strong amongst our people, we will know when it is time to depart.  
  
We agree, Elrond declared, that we will stay and see what the path of elves and the path of men shall take in determining where Middle Earth will stand. Word will be sent to Cirdan, being of like mind, he will agree with what has been spoken here. All we wait for is for Thranduil's message for if he agrees, then all the elves of Middle Earth have agreed to stay and to endure and to fight a battle for the good of all the free folk.  
  
Implanted in Elrond's and Arwen's mind was the glowing smile of Galadriel before she closed the connection between Imladris and Lothlorien. The Golden Lady normally did not need much rest, but many days of trying to reach her Fanyarelisse had been unsuccessful, even with Celeborn's aid. Her adopted daughter refused to speak to her, and there was no way she could push her to accept what she wished to say. Closing her eyes, she only hoped that whatever had happened on the trip did not damage their relationship for in Fanyarelisse, Galadriel had found another true daughter of her own mind and heart.  
  
~  
  
It was less than seven days after the Silver Lady of Lorien had departed when the sons of Elrond appeared in the forests of Mirkwood. Matters were grave; hearts were stern; minds were wise. He heard what Elladan and Elrohir had to say and he knew what the elves of Mirkwood would do. It was in these hardy woodland elves to give up and forsake their home. Even if they were the first to be covered in darkness, even if they lost their home to the hand of evil, they would not lose faith, they would not lose hope.  
  
No, the elves of Mirkwood would stay in Middle Earth. For in Mirkwood, long had elves dwelt that were brave, strong, and courageous. They were not the type to falter in the shadow of calamity; they did not dealt in the doubts of what route to take. For in them, they had forged this forest into their own and made it their home. Let Mordor try to conquer. Let the hand of Sauron attempt to battle the Silvan Elves on their grounds.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: As always reviews are nice, thanks! 


	4. Arc 1: The Coming Darkness

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
4: The Coming Darkness (February 9, 2003 to February 10, 2003)  
  
.III. .2901.  
  
A hundred years had passed since the Council of Eldar and what Galadriel had seen had come to pass. The darkness that she had envisioned in Mirkwood had encroached on its lovely borders, slowly spreading like a sickness that knew only to contaminate and to destroy all that it touched. By the end of the hundred years of waiting, nearly half of Mirkwood was covered by the shadowy gloom, some elves even adjusting to the darkness such that the light now hurt them.  
  
The only possible good that came from this blight across their lands were that they were the toughest elves in all Middle Earth. Not a few days would pass before another group of orcs that still had not learn of the strength of Mirkwood elves met their timely demise. Their Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, famed for being the best archers of all elves, had proved his mettle scores of time with his undeniable skill and grace. For none in his patrol were ever lost in their guard of Mirkwood.  
  
Everyone in the group immediately stopped at the same time, their keen elven hearing picking up on precisely the same sound, a noise they were quite familiar with. It was the grating thud of orc feet on their Mirkwood soil, they were not that near yet for their foul stench had yet to suffocate their sensitive nostrils. But it was not long before that overbearing odor caused the beautiful faces of the elves to wrinkle with disgust and revulsion.  
  
Holding his hand up, Legolas commanded those under him to be ready. They all strung their bows with their arrows, facing the exact direction the orcs were sure to charge at them. Though, this had been the same ritual every time, they never allowed themselves to get too comfortable because that was how other elves had gotten lost. Once the beady eyes of the orcs were seen, the archers released their arrows and with lightening speed restrung their bows and waited for their Prince's signal.  
  
He lowered his hand and those under his guidance let lose their arrows again, slicing through the group of orcs. Those at the forefront of the group leapt off of their horses, withdrawing their swords and long knives to do away with the rest of the rank creatures. Never lacking in bravery or courage, Legolas was at the very front of his elves, slaying orc after orc with his proficiency of movement and expertise. Unlike other elves, he did not use a sword or a long knives, content to using his arrows at close range proximity, taking an arrow and thrusting it forcefully into an orc head that got too close for aim.  
  
Few elves were better at that propinquity with their blades as he was with his bow and arrow. For Legolas's weapon was an extension of his being, he used it as he would a part of his body. Wiping away the blood from his face, he reached back to grab another arrow, only to discover that his quiver was empty. He truly disliked that when that happened for there was nothing to do but to withdraw the long knife he kept to his side in case of circumstances like these.  
  
Being distracted for a second, two orcs jumped on him immediately with him barely having enough time to lift his knife up to block the twin blows. The orcs, however, had not thought his reaction would be fast enough to hinder their attacks that they had left themselves open to a return assault, which Legolas played on with full force, cutting them down with the blade in his left hand. Despite how easy he had gotten rid of those two orcs, his heart was pounding because that was the closest he had gotten in many years to being in danger. That meant one thing, he needed to intensify his training.  
  
He was furious with himself for not being more prepare, sharper on his feet because the danger of Mordor was coming, he knew that better than any elf in Mirkwood. If he was going to protect his home, he had to be always prepared, which is why over the past years he had trained himself to do what was necessary to be the most venerated archer in all Mirkwood. It mattered if he could sleep while walking, it mattered that he could run for days on end. All that he had trained into himself, all that was the reason when the time of need came, he was ready.  
  
~  
  
"Elrond wants Arwen to be sent back to Rivendell permanently after the visit you two shall make," Galadriel stated calmly. "He does not believe that Lothlorien is as safe as his Imladris against attack of the dark forces of Mordor when the time comes. What have you to say about that, tithen min?" (little one)  
  
The more years that passed by, the more her adopted daughter managed to shed the darkness that had trapped and suffocated her pure spirit. When something was asked, when something needed a response, she now spoke, albeit in mind speech. Have you taught her all that you need to teach her, amme? (mother)  
  
Galadriel shook her head. "For me to give her all the knowledge within me, no time would ever be enough. Her gifts are not as strong as Celebrian's, but still she has the ability to learn, to use what I can teach her. You are the one I place my hope in, Anaire, you are the one that can see into the Mirror."  
  
The first time, she had gazed upon the Mirror, she had seen the desolation of the lands of Middle Earth by the hand of Sauron and how the free folk became enslaved. It was then that Galadriel named her the name that was suited to her, Anaire, the holiest one. Since then, she only looked into the Mirror when it was necessary to hone her ability, but still the Mirror gave what was sought more freely to Galadriel. Anaire's true gift laid in the ability to read minds, and it was in this gift that she perhaps even surpassed her teacher and mother.  
  
"Soon," Galadriel spoke, "Arwen will return to Imladris, for I understand Lord Elrond's concern. Times grow more dangerous, soon the road to Rivendell will be even more hazardous. Yet the time is not right quite yet. There is more that she must be taught as you still have to be taught, tithen min."  
  
She bowed her head to the Lady of Lothlorien with acknowledgement that the words she spoke were true. There was much Galadriel still had to tutor her in the ways of the world, in the methods of enchantment. One day when the coming darkness was no longer a danger, she hoped that the books on lore and tales she might read and lose herself in so that she did not have to think of the terrible nightmare that still haunted her in times of weakness.  
  
~  
  
"You are not paying attention, Anaire," reprimanded Haldir sharply, after disarming her of both of her long knives. "How do you expect to be allowed to accompany the Guard when you are not able to suitably defend yourself?" he asked harsher than he meant to, but when it came to her protection that was the concern that was primary to him. Ever since that day, a hundred years prior, remembering how the orc leader had rushed at her, ready to slice her to pieces had struck a fear into him, him who feared naught.  
  
My apologies, she answered simply in a voice that was even more beautiful to hear than she was to look on, Haldir. She bent down to pick up her knives and after cleaning the blade, she readied herself for the next onslaught of Haldir's, entirely focused now on what was before her. Still, she was not faster than Haldir. Still, she was not more skilled than he. His skill and his strength far outmaneuvered her, but it was her ability to predict what move he'd make next that allowed them to match aptitude to aptitude when her mind was there.  
  
"Better," he complimented, "much better." He was not able to disarm him, he was not able to back her up into a corner. He and she matched blow to blow, their actions synchronizing so perfectly that it didn't seem like they were practicing combat together, but acting an intriguing dance with twin long knives. "I will speak to Celeborn of allowing you to ride with the Guard tomorrow if that is your wish, Anaire."  
  
There was the barest smile on her pale pink lips, but a smile nonetheless for her. It did his heart good to see her have a lightness on her face when it nearly always covered with the darkness of what had tormented her long ago. If he was able to rid her of her turmoil, he would, but he wasn't. At least in this, he was able to do for her. "Now, it's time for the sword," he declared, "you still wield it like you are afraid to lose it, do not be scared to lose it and then your movements will be sleeker, swifter."  
  
Without further warning, he withdrew his sword and lunged at her just as she pulled her sword out of its scabbard to meet him in a clashing of silver music. She concentrated harder than she had been earlier for the sword was her weakest weapon, she knew it was not going to be long before he either backed her up into a corner or flung the sword from her hand.  
  
Stepping backwards, she avoided his blade and tried in a desperate charge to take him by surprise, but he reacted faster than she had predicted. She barely managed to move fast enough to block the blow to the left that was coming when she ran into the wall of exhaustion, not able to escape the onslaughts that she saw were coming. She lasted longer than she thought she would when he finally had his sword under her chin. "Not bad," he commented, "but it is still by far your weakest."  
  
Thanks, Haldir, she responded, her mental voice slightly bemused. To others, a show of emotion was a cause to be entirely astonished, but to him it was normal almost. It still was not quite an everyday occurrence to him for she had gone without expression for so long for him to treat it as nothing, it was indeed something. Tomorrow?  
  
He nodded and smiled at her, a truly rare thing for him to do to any elf but for her smiles were abundant. "When has that ever changed?" he inquired back with dry humor that was customary for him. "Tomorrow it will be." Mockingly, he bowed low before taking the cloak that he had placed on the table and wrapped it around her. It still bothered him to watch her hide beneath, that still had not changed. She was still as mysterious to those that did not know her. Even to him, she was still a mystery.  
  
~  
  
The myth of the unnatural appearance of the Silver Lady of Lothlorien continued to spread by word of mouth slowly over the years until she became nearly as renown as the Lady of Light. Stories said of her ethereal beauty. Tales told of her terrible features. The only thing they agreed on was that she was powerful and caution should be taken around her. No longer did they even agree if her hair was silver. Some said it was grey, others white, but most silver. Despite the uncertainties, maybe because of them, she was the one elves discussed and pondered the most, for she was secretive.  
  
Eventually these stories reached the ears of Elrond, and he was amused by them because he knew Anaire as well as she'd let him know her. It was true she was a secret to most; it was not true that she was hideous to look upon. He understood when he'd seen her for the first time, when Arwen had brought her home for a short visit why his young Elrohir heavily defended her name like a sister. There was something entirely fragile about her that made one want to protect her from any harm of whatever kind.  
  
How frustrating Anaire must find it for she was like Arwen in strength and independence, without doubt the beauty. It had taken time for Arwen to coerce Anaire into opening up to her. When she had, the two girls had forged a true bond of sisterhood. Arwen was the more forceful, while Anaire was passive. But both had strong minds and faithful hearts. Both believed that the elves were needed to stay no matter the doom that waited.  
  
Soon his Arwen would return to Imladris with Anaire to perform the ritual that would tie them together as sister and make Elrond as much a father Anaire as Celeborn. The first part had already been conducted in Lothlorien, it had been decided the last part would be done at Rivendell with Elrond presiding over it. The Lord of Imladris smiled because his Arwen was right. Even in the darkest of times, there must be hope for hope was the only light strong enough to banish the darkness from whence it came.  
  
In such a time of doom, his heart was listed in that a lost and frightened and terrorized child over a hundred years later had found a family, even if it was not blood bound. In such a time of darkness, his heart was lightened that despite the fall of shadows, there was still goodness that grew and thrived in its midst. In such a time as this, that there were still smiles made him believe that even though the strength of others had failed, there was still the hearts to elves to continue on.  
  
~  
  
The trip to Rivendell had been surprisingly uneventful with the increased orc activity outside of the Golden Woods. It was fortunate for the trip was done with haste for Galadriel had already commanded both Arwen and Anaire back to Lothlorien as soon as the ritual was done. Time was invaluable as the doom of Mordor continued to spread its evil dominion over Middle Earth. She had also converse with Elrond into allowing her to continue to instruct Arwen for as long as she thought necessary.  
  
When they arrived at Imladris, Elrond and his twin sons were on hand to welcome Arwen and Anaire back. It had been many years since they had last come, though Elladan and Elrohir often journeyed to Lothlorien to visit their sister and their grandparents. Their visits also covered the missives that were sent back and forth for the seeing rooms were used seldom as it was not as safe as it had once been.  
  
"Your return to Imladris," Elrond declared from where he stood atop the stairs looking like the Lord of Rivendell, "has been eagerly sought and anticipated, Arwen Undomiel and Anaire Istelile."  
  
Elladan and Elrohir were not as reserved as their father was, grabbing their sister and soon to be sister into their arms with a joyful greeting. It was when Elrohir had Anaire in his embrace that caused Elrond to cough to remind them that the hold had gone on for far longer than was necessary. Elrohir finally loosened his grip on Anaire, though his eyes never left her face. His father watched them carefully to make sure that there was no emotion other than that of an overwhelming happiness to see her, for once this ceremony was completed Anaire would be as much of a sister as Arwen in the eyes of elves.  
  
"In your rooms," Elrond continued to address Arwen and Anaire after a pause, "everything has been prepared. The Ceremony will begin very soon, it is as Galadriel requested that you two journey back to Lothlorien after staying the night over. You all are dismissed to prepare." All started to head to their rooms to get ready for the ritual when Elrond called out specifically, "Elrohir, I want to speak to you private. Come with me."  
  
Following his father to his study, Elrohir had a guess what his father wished to speak to him about, though he felt it was late in the asking now that things had come this far. Then again, his thoughts could be wrong, so he asked in a way that said he didn't know why he'd been called to speak to his father private, "What is it that you with to speak to me about, father?"  
  
Elrond gazed at his younger son carefully, Elrohir was perceptive more so than Elladan when it came to matters of the mind. He found it hard not to believe that Elrohir hadn't guessed. Though he did not have the gift to read minds, he did know his son like every parent knew their child's mind. "Anaire," Elrond stated, "do you have feelings for her that I should be made aware of?"  
  
His son's eyes avoided his father's piercing gaze while he responded with a question of his own, "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Because I am concern. Once this is done, it cannot be reversed or erased," Elrond said gravely. "Answer me truthfully, do you have feelings for her, Elrohir?"  
  
He lifted his face up to meet his father's intense gaze, eye to eye. "I do not know what feelings I have for her," he replied honestly. "My feelings for her are unlike any I have encountered before: I want to protect her, guard her more than that I do not know."  
  
Elrond sighed with relief. His concerns were perhaps unfounded. If the feelings were not more than that, then it was how a brother felt for a sister, a father for a daughter of a warrior to an innocent. Placing his hands on Elrohir's shoulders, he asked to erase all doubt, "Have you ever felt like there was a possibility she could be more? How do you feel that she will be as much a sister after this ritual as Arwen?"  
  
"It is what Arwen wants," Elrohir responded, "and it is what Anaire needs, a family that is full and complete. For Arwen, this is necessary as well for Anaire is like the sister that Arwen never had. As her brother, I have seen how close she has gotten to Anaire, and how good it has been for her since she lacks a true mother figure. Until Anaire, it was assumed she was Galadriel's successor and thus was isolated from other elves. In that both are under Galadriel's guidance has brought the two together as sisters and this will only tie them more."  
  
"Well spoken," Elrond remarked, "so that is your answer?" Elrohir nodded. "Since that is your answer, then the ceremony will go on."  
  
~  
  
At the top of the path, Arwen was dressed in a pale twilight blue gown that mirror the same design of Anaire's yellow-tinged gown. Arwen smiled at Anaire, holding out her hand to her, asking, "Are you ready?"  
  
I am ready. Anaire took the hand that Arwen offered to her and together the Evenstar and Silverstar moved down the path that the elves of Imladris and those that had accompanied Anaire from Lothlorien made for them to work down. All the elves watched with wonder as the rumors and the stories and the tales became reality as they saw the glorious beauty of the two fairest elven maidens of the Third Age. One, whose magnificence was dark and exotic; one, whose splendor was light and fragile. Together their beauty was blinding. It was an overwhelming light in a time of impending darkness.  
  
From where Haldir stood to the front of the line, his eyes were glowing with his pride in his Istelile, Silverstar, a name he had gifted her one night when sky had been filled with darkness and she was the only star that shone. He had asked to be the representative to Rivendell since the day she had arrived at Lothlorien, they had never gone a day without seeing each other. That request had amused both the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien for Haldir was impossible to get to leave the Golden Woods unless it was asked of him as a favor to them. Even then, he was notorious reluctant and made it plain he disliked it, for his love of his home was well known. But anywhere Anaire went, he followed, even if it meant to the ends of time.  
  
On the other side, Elladan and Elrohir stood, watching the two girls approach their father and bow low before turning to face each other. They stared into each other's eyes as Elrond began the ritual, "Across the time, across the space, for nothing can ever separate two hearts that wish to be bound. These two hearts, two fair hearts wish to be linked not by blood of bond but by bond of souls, of hearts. Elbereth, our Elentari, bless this union of sisterhood, bless all elves everywhere."  
  
Once Elrond was done speaking, Arwen took a twin necklace to the one that Galadriel had given to her many years before that had once been Celebrian's and placed it around Anaire's neck. The replica was faithful and carefully crafted by the best of all elven craftsmen, thus it had taken time, which had delayed the ceremony a few years. Nonetheless, the necklace had arrived and it was identical in every fashion to the one that Arwen bore on her own neck. "We may not have been born sisters," she murmured, "but we are sisters of the same heart."  
  
Anaire placed her hand on the necklace and then placed her hand on Arwen's necklace. Sisters eternally.  
  
"Sisters infinitely."  
  
With joined hands they faced the crowd of elves that had gathered for this joining of sisterhood, the bonds never to be broken. As the elves from Rivendell and Lothlorien witnessed the two fairest elven maidens deepen their bond of friendship into an everlasting bond, the elves wondered if these two stars, these two lights would be able to fend off the growing darkness in the world around them. For it seemed hopeful, for their light, their very beauty was a comfort in the midst of all the danger looming.  
  
Author's Note: Feedback is nice! 


	5. Arc 1: Changing Hands of Fate

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
Tara- The race for Anaire is definitely between Haldir and Legolas. Donna- Thanks so much! AngelQueen- Yes, I tried to make it mysterious, and the bonds are important. It's not so focused on the romantic ties. AngelsExist- Thanks!  
  
Enjoy this update!  
  
5: Changing Hands of Fate (February 11, 2003 to February 13, 2003)  
  
.III. .3018.  
  
They rode for days on end, taking almost no breaks for the times had only grown more dangerous. Despite their fleetness of horses, they still had had to deal with an orc attack, which they successfully fought off with no injuries much less casualties. All those in the Galadhrim group were skilled by many a years of protecting Lothlorien. But finally, they had reached Rivendell where Elrond and Arwen were awaiting their expectant arrival.  
  
"At last you come," Arwen greeted with glowing eyes as she rushed to her sister and hugged her eagerly in welcome, "you were delayed, were you not?"  
  
Anaire nodded. By orcs, she answered, but that was momentary. The fasted route was blocked, so we had to work our way around. Has the Council begun?  
  
Arwen shook her head. "No," she responded, "the representatives from Gondor have yet to arrive, though the Mirkwood elves did beat you here." She bowed to her father and took her sister's hand. "Come to my room, we have much we need to discuss."  
  
Waving his hand in agreement, Elrond dismissed them and turned his focus onto Haldir, whom he had much to inquire of. "Any word that needs to be made known to me, Haldir o Lorien?"  
  
"None, Lord Elrond," he responded. "What Galadriel told you last time remains true, that is all she bade me tell you." It was what he had hoped not to hear, but so be it--- Galadriel knew what she was doing better than anyone.  
  
"Anaire, she fought well against the orcs she met during journey to Imladris?" Elrond queried.  
  
"Well, of course," Haldir replied in almost a scornful fashion that his pupil would not have fought well, "she is as skilled as any in my guard or else she would not be in my guard. Over the years since the doom has been foreseen, I have prepared her to handle whatever may happen. There is still more for her to learn, more for her to experience, but though not naturally a gifted warrior has forced herself to be one."  
  
"Forced herself to be one?"  
  
"Yes," he said simply, "she has tried hard to be skilled with weaponry, yet still she is lacking. She pushes herself harder than any I have taught because she wants it. She is not talented, but she is the best student I have. Only when she is distracted is she weak, when she is focused her ability to read minds make up for any deficit of natural ability."  
  
Elrond had heard enough. Glancing at the hallway where Arwen and Anaire had departed, he stared at the spot where the two sisters had left hand in hand. Together, they had a destiny woven into the hope of Middle Earth. It was not for him to question when Galadriel had already allowed Anaire to walk down the path of certain death. Maybe there was something else that the Lady of Light knew that he did not, for he did not think Galadriel would knowingly sacrifice a daughter of hers into the forefront of an absolute demise.  
  
~  
  
She watched her sister move up and down the length of her room with knowing eyes for Arwen had never been able to shield her mind effectively from her. Yet, Anaire did not allow herself to dip into Arwen's mind when the information would be freely given if she waited for it. It was for that reason that Arwen had brought her here to discuss something that was plaguing her mind, something Anaire had already guess at. There is something you wish to say. So say it, Undomiel.  
  
"Istelile," Arwen began, her hand on the pendant they both had, "we share this necklace between the two of us... it is our bond with each other... but I wish to give it... to Estel."  
  
Her suspicious were confirmed. We share the necklace, but the bond is in our hearts. Giving the pendant to Estel will not change our sisterhood. Giving your heart to Aragorn will not lessen the ties that bind us. Undomiel, it is your heart to give. Give it well, give it freely.  
  
"Thank you, Istelile," Arwen whispered. "To have a sister whose heart is as true and as pure as yours is a gift beyond all else."  
  
I am no better than the others, Anaire responded. Arwen was about to ask why she thought that, but Anaire's stony expression told her it was not wise to inquire. There was still much about her sister that she had yet to know though Anaire knew all she kept within her. She did not understand why, but she knew better than to pressure her for that only forced Anaire back into her shell. It had taken all these years for her to open up this far and still she did not speak aloud.  
  
Anaire averted her gaze from Arwen's and stared out at the darkening sky, seeing a vaguely familiar silhouette of a figure on the bridge over the lake of Imladris. She did not have to see his face to know who it was. It was Estel. He was waiting for Arwen, undoubtedly. He is waiting for you. Her sister gave her an apologetic look before heading out to meet her lover. Anaire watched as Arwen with a sympathetic gaze for their very love was in the end, whatever end it was going to be was going to filled with sorrow.  
  
As she turned her face, she caught her reflection in the mirror. It had been hundred of years since she had dared to see her face. Now she was getting a good look at herself, and she understood why everyone gaped when they saw her. She traced a solitary finger down her scar that began below her eye and traveled down to the corner of her mouth. She couldn't get passed it, how did others get pass it? When she focused in on her grey eyes, she saw the darkness that others did not see. For she knew what resided beneath her eyes, the dark shadows.  
  
She was still haunted by her demons. It was something that she couldn't shake away from her core. Whenever she saw orcs, she had to fight the fear within her to run, to hide, to simply escape. She wasn't that helpless child they had taken and abused any longer. She was made of strength now, the strength to resist them and to prevent them for torturing anyone the way they had tormented her.  
  
Lost in her thought, she had no idea she had even left Arwen's room and was wandering aimlessly down the hallway until she bumped into someone. Lifting her head up quickly, she quickly bent it down, not able to bare the sight of having someone glance at her, her terrible scar, her terrible secret. It wasn't like her to go anywhere without her cloak, why did she not have it now?  
  
"It is you," said a voice, soft and liquid, entirely unfamiliar to her. "It really is you."  
  
The call in his voice made her lift her face up again. She stared into eyes that were a true blue, and she realized that she did not know him though he knew her. She tried to place his face, his perfectly beautiful face but she could not. She did not recognize him, yet somehow he knew her. At least, he thought he knew her. Shaking her head, she began to back away from him.  
  
From the way she was shaking her head, it was obvious that she did not remember her. He had not thought about her in a long time, but there were times when his mind was pulled back to his memories of her. The way she had knelt before his father, the determination in her gaze, the strength in her fragility had moved him and had made her unforgettable. "You spoke to me," he whispered insistently, closing the gap she was making between them. "Do you not remember? You said: Do not ask to know one no one knows. You met me at Mirkwood when you brought a missive from the Lady Galadriel. I am Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood..."  
  
"Do not pressure her," Haldir interrupted as he walked up to Anire, placing her white cloak onto her shoulders. "In time, she will remember you if that is what she wishes." He moved to the front her, fastening her cloak on for her like a father. "Istelile, Elladan and Elrohir have arrived back from their last mission and both wish to speak to you before they ride out tonight, since it has been quite long since they have last seen you."  
  
She nodded and bowed respectfully to Legolas before she left to go to rooms that Elladan and Elrohir shared while they were in Imladris. Once she had faded into the night, Haldir turned sharply to Legolas and was about to say something but Legolas beat him to it, "Why does she not remember her trip to Mirkwood?"  
  
"The trip was traumatic for her because of the attack by the orcs," Haldir responded finally, still staring down the empty hallway that Anaire had used to walk away. "It was not discovered how badly it had unnerved her until we returned to Lothlorien. It was then that she started to open up even more to Galadriel, showing her more fully the memories that still plagued her. It is not that she does not remember you, she does not want to remember that trip much like she does not wish to remember her past." He stopped speaking after that, giving a stiff nod before he too turned away and followed the path Anaire had taken.  
  
Still standing where they both had left him, Legolas pondered the halting information that Haldir had given him. Truth be told, he had almost not recognized her not that she appeared different. There was a different air about her, a different aura. When he had first seen her, there was this feeling of being lost like she wasn't of this world. When he had seen her just now for the first time in many years, he got a different emotion about her. No longer did she feel surreal, she no longer felt quite so out of reach--- she was in reach.  
  
~  
  
A glimmer of a smile appeared on her lips when she saw her brothers, Elrohir and Elladan waiting for her. It had bothered her as she'd made her way to where her brothers were waiting, why she didn't remember the beautiful blond and blue eyed elf that knew her. She vaguely recalled Mirkwood but only barely. She remembered going to Mirkwood, but she didn't recall the elf that claimed to be its Prince. What Haldir said was true, that when her mind wanted to remember it would.  
  
"Anaire Istelile," Elladan greet, going to her and giving her a hug, "it is good to see you again, muinthell." (sister)  
  
Elrohir approached after his brother and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Muinthell," he whispered as he embraced her, "Elladan and I wish to ask you to come with us on our journeys around." He paused to let his request sink in. "Will you come?"  
  
She stared into Elrohir's piercing gaze, and she knew that he knew why she'd come to participate in the Council that Elrond had called upon. It also meant that she could possibly be part of whatever their father decided on what to do with the one ring. For both Elladan and Elrohir knew that the one ring could not remain in Imladris, the elves did not have the strength to keep it from Sauron. They had not regained even half their strength in the War of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves.  
  
You leave tonight? They nodded, they indeed left this night. I cannot, she replied, I am needed to represent the elves of Lothlorien at the Council. My apologies, Elladan and Elrohir.  
  
"It is okay," Elladan responded, "I had to ask to give you another option. Keep safe, Anaire, for when we return we want to see you as well as the day we left you." Taking a silver dagger from his bag, he tossed it to her. "For you, whatever path you take," he declared. "Made by master dwarves and will serve you well as it has I."  
  
From Elrohir's finger, he pulled a ring set with a precious moonstone off of his finger and placed it into her open palm. "Given to me by amme from her amme that I now give to you, Anaire. Remember how far you have gone and who you are." (mother)  
  
Thank you. She slipped the ring onto her finger and placed the dagger into the sheath at her side. There is something I have for both of you. She took out of her pocket two small phials filled with a clear liquid. From the Mirror of Galadriel for you to remember the clarity and the vision behind your paths.  
  
All three knew that this exchange of gifts may be the last time they saw each other for the longest time ever. Each was to undertake a dangerous journey to prevent the desires of Sauron from being realized no matter what the cost. The decision of the Council those many years ago had decided that though the days of elves were coming to an end, they would stay to make sure that the days of men, the days of the free folk did not end.  
  
"Elladan and Elrohir," Haldir stated, breaking the penetrating silence that surrounded the three of them as he had walked up to them, "Lord Elrond needs to speak to you." The twin brothers gave one final glance at their adopted sister before they hurried to go to their father, for in these times things were urgent. Once they had departed, Haldir whispered softly, "You need to rest, Istelile before tomorrow comes."  
  
Her grey eyes lifted to meet his intense blue ones that knew her as well as anyone besides Celeborn and Galadriel. I know Haldir. I know. She raised her hand up and followed the scar down her cheek, something she had never done before. I saw my face in Arwen's mirror. Is it unsightly?  
  
He took her hand and traced her scar with his finger gently, barely touching it. "No," he answered, "it is not." When his hand came to her chink he tilted her face up so that his blue orbs stared into her grey ones. "The mirror only reflects your appearance and not your heart, not your soul."  
  
Thank you, Haldir.  
  
"Remember," he declared after he had escorted her to her room, "even though we are at Rivendell, the morning sessions still stand. Be ready before the sun rises."  
  
~  
  
The next morning, Anaire was up, working at her aim with her bow when she heard the footsteps of someone behind her. She whirled around expecting to see Haldir, only to be confronted by the elf from last night. Her eyes widened, but she quickly controlled her emotions and refocused her attention on the target. Stringing her bow with an arrow and narrowing her eyes with concentration, she then let it loose. The arrow flew through the air and split the arrow that was already in the center of the target.  
  
"Less time to aim equals more time to shoot," Haldir advised as he slipped from behind a tree. "You need to be quicker and less careful." He approached her and stood next to her. Taking his bow, he pulled arrows from them fast with barely any time to aim he released them. He didn't stop until ten arrows had blown from his bow. "Let the feeling guide you. You will feel the intuition." He placed his hand on hers, standing behind her like she was still a novice, he commanded, "Close your eyes."  
  
She closed her eyes and shot whenever he placed an arrow into her hand. When she reopened her eyes, she saw that all her arrows were approximately near the target, despite that she had had her eyes closed and had spent little time aiming. When she looked up to see what Haldir's expression was, she saw he was pleased because there were no emotions written on his stoic face. It was easy for her to tell when he was irritated, frustrated. She did not have to read his mind.  
  
That is better is it not?  
  
"That is better," he agreed. Without giving her a chance to prepare herself, he withdrew his sword and lunged at her. Swiftly she slid her twin long knives out and blocked the blow, this randomness was what he'd been trying to teach her all these years to expect what was unexpected. Anaire was plainly on the defensive, while Haldir was on the offensive. Legolas watched with fascination as neither really got a distinct upper hand. They fought like they danced.  
  
Neither of the three noticed Arwen's approach. "Anaire," she called, "the Council is about to begin." When Arwen noticed Legolas standing to the side, she continued, "Prince Legolas, you are needed at the Council as well."  
  
"May I attend the Council?" Haldir requested, sheathing his blade.  
  
Arwen nodded. "I believe a spot has been reserved for you, Haldir as the March Warden of Lothlorien. You are to be seated next to muinthell nin. Will you three follow me?" (my sister)  
  
~  
  
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You are summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction," Elrond declared. "You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." He paused and his gaze fell onto the hobbit that had carried the burden. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo."  
  
To Elrond's immediate right stood his sworn daughter, Anaire, who watched with keen eyes as the hobbit placed his hand over the center of the Council and dropped the ring. The expression on his still pale face was relieved, glad to be rid of the awful weight. In him, she saw how the ring had pulled at him, how it had made him suffer through the lure yet he had fought it with a heart of purity.  
  
"So it is true. The ring of power. The doom of man."  
  
Boromir stood up, the son of the Steward of Gondor, the representative of man. "It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of my people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him."  
  
The feeling she got from this man, this son of man was not the same emotion she received from Aragorn. It was not that he was an evil soul, it was that his soul was easily swayed. Already the lure of the ring was pulling at him, trying to reach him and move him as it had moved Isildur. The darkness she felt made her heart ache with the barrenness until she stepped closer to Haldir, who stood right beside her.  
  
"We have but one choice," Elrond continued. "The ring must be destroyed."  
  
"What are we waiting for?" Gimli queried loudly. He stood onto his feet and pulled his axe out, striking the ring. But he did not draw the focus that Frodo did of hers. True, Gimli was knocked to the ground, yet Frodo was paralyzed by something, some vision he saw. Carefully, she probed the outer reaches of his mind and saw, saw the horror of what he saw. The eye of Sauron.  
  
She almost gasped, but managed to keep it to herself. "The ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess," Elrond stated firmly. "It was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from which it came. One of you must do this."  
  
A silence filled the air that was deafening. Her eyes hit all those that were there, and her eyes fell onto Legolas. He was noble and good, strong and brave. It was not long before the silence erupted into a vortex of voices. She watched the chaos that started as the races of Middle Earth argued amongst them for what way they'd take to destroy the One Ring.  
  
It filled her heart with agony as she heard the Ring chanting, chanting its name, its terrible purpose in the language of its master. She was seized with the festering darkness that she kept trapped within her. Those horrible words reminded her too much of what she had gone through that she had unwittingly grabbed Haldir's arm. Comfortingly, he placed his hand over hers.  
  
"I will take it." She was the only one to hear Frodo's declaration, but she was not the last as he repeated in a stronger exclamation, "I will take it!" The rest of the Council turned their focus to the brave, pure, innocent Hobbit. "I will take the ring to Mordor. Though I do not know the way."  
  
"I will help you bear this burden for as long as it is yours to bear," Gandalf declared, resting his hand upon Frodo's shoulder.  
  
"If by my life or my death I can protect you, I will." Anaire watched as the love of her sister's life knelt in front of Frodo with his vow to be faithful as only the true heir to man could do. "You have my sword."  
  
"And my bow."  
  
"And my axe."  
  
"You carry the fate of us all, little one," Boromir remarked. "But if this is truly the will of the Council, Gondor will see it done." Yes, his heart was easily swayed, but this man was not corrupted not quite yet. It remained to be seen if his heart was stronger than the taint that the weakness of men's hearts already bore.  
  
This was the fate of Middle Earth being decided here. It was a wondrous moment as the races all joined together. She stepped forward, stepping to join when Elrond's hand prevented her from moving forward. She glanced up at him with inquiry in her eyes, this was what she thought she was brought here to do for Galadriel had told her that there was something here to bind her destiny.  
  
It was not to be she realized as she watched three hobbits spring from their hiding placing, making up the seventh, eighth, and ninth members of the nine party Fellowship. "Nine companions," Elrond commented. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."  
  
~  
  
"Haldir," Elrond said, "Galadriel has recalled you back to Lothlorien, but Anaire will ride after Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel, whom are tracking the Nazgul. That is what Galadriel has foreseen is her task to fulfill. It was only this morning that she informed me of this."  
  
"I cannot leave her alone," Haldir declared. "Who will protect her until she meets up with them?"  
  
"You will accompany her until she meets up with the small group of Imladris I have sent to delay the nine riders," Elrond responded. "After you meet up with them, you will then travel to Lothlorien." He paused momentarily. "Prepare her things while I speak to her privately for you must depart before the Fellowship and clear their way, the task I have given my sons."  
  
Haldir nodded and bowed low, leaving Elrond's study. Not long after, Anaire entered and the father of her oselle, guided her up the stairs to the seeing room. "Galadriel can explain to you your destiny better than I," Elrond declared before he left her alone in the room. (sworn sister)  
  
Anaire had never tried to reach along, but she had studied how to. So she faced the direction of Lothlorien and reached out with her mind to feel Galadriel's touch. Her mind was clamed as she felt her adopted mother's golden feel. Amme, she greeted and then added as she felt the gentleness of Celeborn, Adar, how are things in Lorien?  
  
They are good, Estelinde, Celeborn responded. There is much Galadriel needs to speak to you of and there is little time. But know my strength and my will are behind you.  
  
I know, Adar. I know.  
  
There was a moment of quiet as those thoughts sunk in. Anaire, my Fanyarelisse, first I had thought you were to accompany the Fellowship, but you are needed to clear the path they are to take. In time, fate may change that, but be strong and faithful for the road you take is fraught with danger as is theirs. I believe that your brothers will keep you safe, Haldir will see you to them safely.  
  
There was more that Galadriel had yet to speak. She knew her adopted mother as well as she knew anyone. You have something to ask. Ask it, Amme.  
  
There was a trace of a smile in the image that Galadriel sent to Anaire. Your thoughts of the ring-bearer, the Fellowship that is to accompany him.  
  
Frodo's heart is as pure as any eldar, Anaire began, but the pull of the One Ring is strong. His heart is still stronger. I believe he can bear it better than any. Aragorn of all men has the strength of heart to keep the faith of men. Legolas, the elf Prince, is the right representative of elves, noble and honorable. Gandalf will hold the Fellowship together with his wisdom and his experience. Gimli, the dwarf envoy, is quick to react and has the will to make the journey. The four hobbits have no experience, but their bravery and their loyalty will serve them yet. Boromir of Gondor concerns me most for his heart may sway most easily. The Nine are idealistic, that will preserve their hope. That is what they most need, hope.  
  
Anaire, my Fanyarelisse let your soul guide you safely back to me.  
  
~  
  
When the horses were ready and the rest of the group from Lothlorien were prepared, they were sent off to catch Elladan and Elrohir. Before they left, Elrond and Arwen bid them a special good bye. What was most touching was the parting between the sworn sisters. Their embrace was heartwarming and tender, filled with the filial love they shared. At last it was time to go and Anaire mounted the gentle mare that she rode for the mare was easy to ride.  
  
The group was about to depart when a strong voice called out, "Anaire of Lothlorien!" She stopped and glanced back, taken by surprise when she saw the Prince of Mirkwood running toward her. He knew that she remembered him not, what was he doing then? She soon found out when he placed a small package into her open hands. "For you on your trip, may this help you."  
  
She was astonished by his audacity for she had thought him to be reserved. But she took the letter and put it safely into her bag. Later when there was time, she would read it. There was no time now. With all haste, the group departed from Rivendell. Even with their speed, it took two days before they caught up to the twins of Elrond.  
  
Once they reached the group of three that Elrond had sent from Imladris to track the nine dark riders, Haldir dismounted off his stallion, leading his horse to her. "I want you to take my horse," he told her. Before she was able to protest, he pulled her off her sweet mare and helped her onto his stallion. "Telpetal won't let you fall, he won't leave you behind. He is fleeter than your mare and more able to handle the hardships of the travel. He will not fail you, will you?"  
  
The stallion snorted, shaking his grey mane and stared at Haldir as he helped Anaire up onto the horse. "Watch over her, Telpetal, guard her as you would I. Protect Istelile no matter what. I trust in you." The horse bowed his regal head for what Haldir spoke he would do. "Farewell, Anaire Galadhriel, my Istelile, let Elentari keep you safe. I leave her in your hands, Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Elrond, and yours, Glorfindel."  
  
They nodded, they would protect her with their lives if it was called upon for them to do. Farewell, Haldir.  
  
Turning back the road they had taken, Haldir led the Galadhrim group to the direction of their home. If he looked back he was frightened that his resolve and his determination to do what was called for him to do might fail. So he pushed himself, forced himself to leave her behind to the mercy of whatever danger that brewed. It was the first time they had parted ways, since they had first met.  
  
The Rivendell group waited until the Lothlorien group had faded away before they urged their horses and hers back to the pursuit of the Nazgul. The riders were close, within riding distance. It was not to be long before they caught the nine dark riders and made sure that they delayed them long enough to give the Fellowship enough of a head start on their mission. For in a few days, the Fellowship of the Ring would set out on their deadly journey.  
  
Author's Note: Feedback is VERY MUCH appreciated. If you have to tell me what you'd like to see, what you think will happen, constructive comments--- that'd be awesome in helping me along with this plot. Thanks for the reviews so far! 


	6. Arc 1: Deepening the Desperation

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
Lady K- I don't know which form I'm using, whatever my beta reader corrects me for and whatever I found in an online elvish diction, Adalari??? something. And your review was helpful, it wasn't boring!  
  
Melfwain- You're awesome, you know how much I love your reviews! And I've already responded to your reviews, so you know my thoughts!  
  
AngelQueen- You'll find out soon! I'm glad you like Haldir. I like Haldir too!  
  
Tara- I'm updating as fast as I can!  
  
LilOne- Thanks! I hope to keep it that way!  
  
AngelsExist- Well, I wanted to make it a little different to keep things interesting. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you!  
  
PhoebeMoon- Everyone is agreeing on one thing: Don't Kill Haldir! LOL = ).  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader!  
  
~  
  
6: Deepening the Desperation (February 14, 2003 to February 16, 2003)  
  
.III. .3018.  
  
It was strange to see her after all these years and have her not remember him at all when she had haunted him. He didn't know why he'd felt compelled to give her the package filled with precious herbs that had miraculous healing properties. But if she was going to chase after the Nazgul, it'd be good for her to have those herbs. For some reason since she spoken in his mind, he had not been able to forget her voice.  
  
"You look lost in thought," Arwen observed, approaching him from behind. "I did not know that you knew her," she began, trying to find out how Legolas knew her oselle. "You seem to know her well though to give her a departing gift."  
  
"She came to Mirkwood many years ago," he answered her curiosity. "I do not know why but the memory of her is as strong as ever."  
  
"I remember," she responded. "It was after I came to Lothlorien that she went."  
  
"She spoke to me," he murmured, "in my mind."  
  
Arwen stared at him with astonishment and disbelief. "I am surprised that she did," she vocalized. "For she did not speak to me until twenty years after she returned from Mirkwood. The trip was especially traumatic for her we later discovered."  
  
"The orc attack..."  
  
Again he stunned her with what he knew. "Yes, it brought back her memories of her torture that the orcs had made her suffer through. That is how she came by her scar, scars on her body and her heart, her very soul. We did not know how badly the trip had shaken her for a while, but one night she broke down in wracking sobs that came from the depths of her soul. It was then that she opened up to Galadriel all her inner misery. It was then she started to call my grandparents amme and adar. It was then she truly became their daughter."  
  
His blue eyes were filled with concern as he stared into her dark eyes carefully. It was not that he didn't believe her for when he had first seen the Silver Lady, he had been struck by the pain he sensed about her. The root of turmoil in her went very deep, residing so far within her that it was almost impossible to see that she was indeed hurting, that she was in pain. It was only when she had spoken to him that he'd felt a feel of the ache inside of her.  
  
It was not until after the vision she had passed to his father and once his father had related the full portentous details of the prophecy that he understood what she had had to bear. She may have been called the Silver Lady, but she appeared to be no older than a child. At that time, he would not have been ready to be burden with the weight that the Lady of Light had placed upon her shoulders. How did one as fragile as she carry that weight?  
  
"She does not remember me, but since she has spoken to me I have felt a connection to her."  
  
~  
  
The preparations were at hand. The Council had decided. The Fellowship was to depart as soon as the path was clear, when the road was made safe. He counted on his sons to make it secure, to make it possible for the Fellowship to succeed in a task impossible to bear but bear it they must for the good of all the free folk. It was time to speak to Galadriel about Anaire. For what he had seen and known, Anaire thought her fate was go to, yet Galadriel had told him an opposing story. He needed to seek out why.  
  
Galadriel, Elrond greeted, I have asked Anaire to pursue with Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel the path of the Nazgul, why is that you changed your mind? Was she not ready? For Haldir does not believe her to be ready.  
  
It is too late to back down, Galadriel responded. No one can prepare for the task she has, and Haldir will never think his student will be ready. It is the same feeling I have, but I have to let her go. There was no change in mind, the path taken is the path foreseen. Elrond suddenly felt his mother-in-law's piercing gaze upon him. Arwen has told me of her love of Aragorn, your Estel. Her love for Estel is as deep as yours for Celebrian, and it cannot be stopped. Give your blessing and it will relieve both of your hearts. Now is not the time to be divided.  
  
What you speak of is true but have you truly let Anaire go? You were the one who counseled me that the path of the One Ring is not hers to take. She was ready to go, I had to prevent her from joining. Have you really let her go?  
  
It is not her time yet, Galadriel answered. Right now it is time for her to go with her sons and stop the black riders of Sauron. It is not her burden to bear yet. Things change, fates twist. One day it may be her destiny to journey with them, until then she will not.  
  
You will not let her go, Elrond said knowingly. You did not want to let Celebrian go even though she needed desperately to leave. She is as real of a daughter to you as if she were of your own blood. You have invested too much in her to let her leave.  
  
I will let her go when the time is right, she stated firmly. Do no presume to know my intentions, Lord Elrond Peredhil. Do not underestimate me. Do not do that.  
  
You try to speak of Arwen, but truly you speak of Anaire. What troubles you is that you struggle to release your Fanyarelisse to her fate. It is what you will have to do. We made the decision to stay; we made the choice to sacrifice for the good of all. It cannot be done in half measures, Galadriel!  
  
I know that! I know that it cannot be done in without full efforts. There is a time and place for everything.  
  
You wish to believe that there is!  
  
There is, she declared with a note of finality. You keep Arwen from her fate to ride besides Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of men, by blood one of yours. Her fate is clearly seen which choice she wants to make. It is within the realm of our power to consent to the decision she has made. With Anaire, things are not clearly defined as with Arwen.  
  
Through the space and the distance, they glared at one another until the calm voice of Celeborn intervened, You each do the same what you tell the other to not do. It is hard to forsake a daughter to a road that leads to certain tragedy. But it was decided upon to stay to do what we could, so we must fulfill that promise. For the souls of elves are faithful to the end.  
  
~  
  
The night was tense. The air was cold. The four elves were very near the presence of the Ulairi. If a wrong step was made, a sound not planned the attack would come when they did not want it yet to come. For they wanted to be the ones that surprised, not the other way around. The pursuers did not wish to become the pursued for once pursued by the Nazgul, it only ended once those pursued were banished from existence.  
  
Elladan, Elrohir, nor Glorfindel needed a respite, but it was clearly visible that Anaire did. She did not say she needed rest, but it was obvious that the dark circles underneath her eyes were caused from her weariness. It was not in her to say she needed a break from the hard riding, thus Elrohir took it upon himself to call on the breather for the horses needed one as well.  
  
It was with much insistence that the three male elves decided that they all would split the turns with Anaire getting the rest she needed through sleep. It was true that elves did not need much sleep, but Anaire had always been an unusual elf in that sleep was more of a requirement than external nourishment. Throughout the days they had ridden, she had eaten far less than the rest of them. It was the rest of her mind that she needed for being awake was a burden to her.  
  
Elladan was the first to take watch, then Glorfindel, and lastly Elrohir, who kept his ears keenly alert as he stared at Anaire, his sister as true as Arwen. He understood what his father had asked him many years ago. That if his interest in Anaire was more than that of a friend, of a brother that there was still time to change what was about to seal that chance away. He had not protested for he had not known. He now knew. That he was to be her brother, her guardian, a protector of hers.  
  
He was still staring at her when she opened her wise eyes. Her gaze upon him reminded him very much of Galadriel's. It was filled with knowledge and power. You gaze at me as if you had not seen me for many years when you have seen me all these days.  
  
"Mela," he whispered the name he had first given her, "can one ever tire of seeing the beauty within you?"  
  
There was no emotion, no expression on her pale and calm face. He did not expect one. But he had not predicted that she'd turn away from him and tilt her head to the east direction. Perplexed, he did not understand what she was listening for until she informed him, They are coming. They know we are here.  
  
He did not have to wake Elladan nor Glorfindel, both of whom had already been warned by Anaire's inner voice. They leapt to attention while Anaire scaled a tree and stood on the branch as still as any statute, keeping watch for the danger that was approaching. Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel readied their bows, waiting for the signal from Anaire, whose senses were keener than theirs for her powers of the mind gave her more of an ability to concentrate.  
  
Their bodies tensed when Anaire withdrew an arrow from her quiver and readied her bow. It was then that they heard the steady sound of the hooves of the black horses of the Ringwraiths. As the Nazgul drew closer, the impending darkness they brought loomed overhead. What Anaire had not expected was that she would feel their minds. Their gloom, their betrayal, their desperation, their grimness that was corrupted in them. It seared her mind with images that were all together like her own inner darkness.  
  
She let loose the arrow too soon, giving away their location before she should have if her mind had not betrayed the movements she had been taught well by Haldir. To wait, to anticipate, and then to fire upon the enemy when they had no further time to react. Her early timing alerted the Ulairi to their position; they were now able to launch an attack to the location that she'd given away.  
  
At least her aim was true, it struck one of the Ringwraiths through the forehead, eliminating that villain for a while. Luck was on their sides because the Witch-King, the Lord of the Nazgul was not with the eight black riders. Even with three of the very best elven warriors in the lands, victory against the Witch-King was slim at best. But still they had gone on with their task because it had been given to them.  
  
Of the three arrows that were released, only Glorfindel's was true enough to take out one of the Ulairi. Elrohir's and Elladan's did impend two of the dark riders, but they did not stop them from launching their attacks. But unlike Anaire, they did have not a chance to use their bows once more because the remaining six Nazgul were bearing down upon them. Anaire's last clear shot struck down on more of the foe, but another shot she was not allowed for even with her perception, the risk of shooting one of her own was too great.  
  
One of the Ringwraiths sensed her hesitation and purposely gave her a vindictive gaze before making his attack on Elrohir as if he knew that this was the one who meant the most to her here. She nearly found it in her to cry out a warning aloud, but Elrohir heard her mental panic. He withdrew his sword and met the attack head on. Yet, his odds were grossly unfair. It was three against one, granted two were half impaired but the one that had given her that terrible gaze was quite fit and dangerous. If the three had been orcs, it'd be no problem. But they were Sauron's special warriors, men tainted by the rings of power given to them. Once great, now terrible to behold.  
  
She took a deep breath as she stepped off the branch, dropping lightly to the earth sliding her double knives out. Yes, she had been well trained by Haldir, but never had she faced warriors like the Nazgul. The orcs brought back her past fears, but these Ringwraiths terrified her with the dark horrible temptations of their insidious minds. Yet, she would not allow herself to forget that Elrohir had saved her form her nightmares, she'd not forsake him. She was unaware of anything else but her concentration on the Nazgul before her.  
  
Their blades clashed, she did not falter like she had long ago. But they were far stronger than she, she was afraid to look into their minds to predict their next move. She feared what she'd see, what she'd find. Drawing the sword over his faceless face, he struck down on her a blow that surely would have crippled if not killed her but for Elrohir's quick action. He blocked the hit meant for her, but the cost was costly as he was stabbed by the other Nazgul from behind.  
  
Despite the wound, he fended off both of them born by the incredible adrenaline pumping in his veins. The terror of seeing her being brutally attacked by the Ulairi had been more than he could handle. Soon though, the loss of blood and the affect of the poison slowed his movements down. For the sword of the Nazgul were not like normal blades. Yes, they cute the living flesh but their edges were corrupted by a potent poison to kill even an elf. It seemed time had run out as Elrohir collapsed to his knees, while Anaire desperately tried to defend him.  
  
Elrohir was overcome by a sense of failure when he saw from his fading vision Glorfindel severing the head of the Ulairi that had injured him, Elladan conquering the other, and even Anaire defeating the last. He may have failed to protect his Mela, but his brother and his companion had not-- - she was even able to defend herself. It was with relief that he felt the darkness overtake him. She was safe, safe for the meantime.  
  
He blacked out before he heard her halting, anguished whisper, "El...el..." But Elladan and Glorfindel heard, their eyes widening with their shared shock. But they didn't say anything as her agonized mind cried out, Find something to help him! Help him!  
  
It was as they were searching through their bags that Elladan noticed the package that he remembered Legolas thrusting into Anaire's hands. When he opened the package, he found what the wood elves fondly called mirkweed, but it's healing properties were well known, considered extraordinary. They certainly needed a miracle and this wild plant surely had the properties that made up for their lack of healing ability. The letter that was wrapped around the outer package was in Legolas's firm script: Hope that this helps whatever troubles you encounter, Anaire.  
  
Many days were spent waiting for Elrohir to sway whatever direction. Whenever Elladan and Glorfindel were about to give up hope, there'd be a sign that again gave them a slim hope that he'd awaken. Mirkweed had rather strange healing power, but they did not think it was only the plant that was healing Elrohir. It didn't hurt that Anaire was trying to speak to get him to wake up for it was a well known myth that the voice could draw the soul back into the body of the about to be departed.  
  
"El...ro...hir," she murmured brokenly, "not... your... time." Words were difficult for her. Her voice had grown use to disuse; she found it hard to speak more than a word at time. If it was true, if her voice could bring him back she'd try. She owed him her life for he was the one that had given it back to her. He was the one that had drawn her out of the chaos that had consumed her. Please, Elrohir, she begged him mentally, come back to me.  
  
The herbs in the package that Legolas had thrust into her hands definitely played a part, her dear brother would have passed to the Halls of Mandos without them. But they weren't enough to bring him back, but her voice was eventually able to reach him. One night when Elladan and Glorfindel were resting, Elrohir's eyes fluttered open with painstaking effort.  
  
If there had been light, his eyes would not have been able to bear it for he had grown accustomed to the blackness he'd nearly fallen in. But it was already dark when he reopened his eyes to the world as hard as it had been for the soft and beautiful voice that spoke to him had been the only sweetness in the darkness. It was not a dream. She was speaking to him. "Elrohir," she whispered his name lyrically, the only word she said well for she had repeated his name over and over in hopes of bringing him back. "Elrohir..." Please come back.  
  
"I am back," he answered hoarsely. He managed a glimmer of a smile, a smile more of a shadow of himself rather than a true smile that he was capable of. "Truly," he reassured when her eyes filled with an emotion of disbelief then a light that warmed his cold heart, "I never left."  
  
Something broke in her, the emotions that had been locked deep within her spilled out as she wept with joy that he was okay, that the one that had saved her had not died saving her again. She owed him a debt that never could be repaid for how did one repay someone that had saved them not once but twice? In her own way, she did not fear the unknown. It was unknown though still less frightening than what she had known. She almost regretted not passing away those many years ago. But then again she had Celeborn and Galadriel, Arwen and Elrond, lastly Elrohir and Haldir. For them, life was worth the living.  
  
Elrohir's recovery was terribly slow, but at least he was recovering. He may have been weak, but the path to catch the Nazgul had led them close to Lothlorien. They didn't even have to find the Galadhrim guard, the Lorien group found them. At the front of the guard was Haldir, who himself took the injured Elrohir with all haste back to the sacred citadel where his Lady would watch over her grandchild, her favored Elrohir.  
  
~  
  
The awful feeling of foreboding passed over Galadriel as she slumped back against Celeborn, her worries and her anxieties placing great strain upon her body. "They are safe," she declared. "Haldir has Elrohir and they are riding ahead of the rest back. They are safe."  
  
The tension within Celeborn's body was released as he heard her words for he had been as nerve wracked as she was, if not more so. It had been days since Galadriel's sudden unmistakable revelation of what was occurring within the vicinity of Celebrian's assault. Days that she had sent Haldir and the Galadhrim guard searching for her adopted daughter. Everything was okay. Nothing was lost.  
  
"It lightens my heart to hear of that," Celeborn honestly confessed. "But you must rest," he commanded, not requesting. "I will take care of Elrohir when he arrives. Do not fear, you need some sleep as minimal as you require for you have not slept in the days since your vision. Please, Galadriel."  
  
She nodded solemnly, allowing her husband to guide her to her chambers. But once he left her alone, she found she was not able to close her eyes. She feared if she rested that the worst would happen without her knowing. So she let the tension leave her body, but she did not allow her mind to relax not even for a moment. She had told Celeborn only as much as she thought he was able to handle.  
  
She did not feel wrong for confiding in him her worst fears when those very same fears were hardly any discernible image. But what she thought, what her instinct told her was not good. She found that her intuition was rarely wrong, this time she hoped that it was. In the back of her mind, she did not think her speculation was inaccurate, but perhaps given time and action, that supposition possibly could change.  
  
~  
  
"They are leaving," Arwen remarked wistfully, her gaze fully concentrated on her beloved Elessar. "May Elbereth guide them wisely with the light she has shone on them thus far."  
  
Elrond nodded for the hope of Middle Earth resided with these nine companions, this gathering of all the good races left. It was not their leaving that drew his most urgent attention, but instead it was the absence of Celebrian's necklace around Arwen's neck. It was the very same pendant that Arwen had been insisted be made for Anaire when they became sworn sisters. Not once since Elladan and Elrohir brought it back from Lothlorien had the Evenstar ever left her neck, yet now it was gone.  
  
"You gave it to Estel," he stated perceptively. He knew his daughter better than all the others elves in Rivendell. After all, she was his daughter. "So you have made your choice." Her eyes never wavered from the fading form of her lover. "Are you sure of it? Once it is made there is no turning back. My daughter, you have lived nearly three thousand years, are you ready to end it? Time has meant nothing to you, and yet to take this path that you are about to decide will bring more changes than that of time."  
  
"I know that," she responded softly. "But I would rather spend one lifetime, one mortal lifetime with the love of my life, with my Elessar than to spend one eternity, one infinity without having known the very trueness of an undying love." Her eyes were unblinking, unbending. "I will not change my mind. I am his."  
  
A sorrow passed over Elrond's reserved face for his daughter was much like him. "It is not your life, your soul that I worry of," he began, "but how terrible it will be for you to be amongst those who have no true bearing on the essence of life. Estel is different than other men, he has grown up as an elf. You will find that other men do not have his strength of character, his noble heart."  
  
"Then he will revive it," she stated with absolute certainty and confidence. "Then he will restore it. Why did you stay, Adar if you do not believe that there is still hope in the inherent goodness that is in man? Why did you stay, Ada if you do not think that they can be what we have always wished them to be?"  
  
"It is because I wish to believe that there is," Elrond declared. "It is because I want to think that there is. But I am realistic, I do not let my hopes rise above what can be expected. Men have already failed when failure was not an option. It is because of them that this desperation of all the races is occurring, and yet it is in men that our hope lies now."  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Feedback is GOLDEN! It makes me think so much. The letter was actually a mistake, it was switched to a package b/c I couldn't think of what Legolas would give, so I wrote a note instead = ). I guess you guys noticed that since you've already read it. Sorry! Any mistakes left in the story means my beta-reader didn't catch them. Check out her story, it's in my favorites and it's good: Sarlisse! Keep reviewing, reviews make me happy and I write more! 


	7. Arc 1: Journeying Forward

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
All those that review almost every chapter, or every chapter: I COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader!  
  
~  
  
7: Journeying Forward (February 17, 2003 to February 19, 2003)  
  
.III. .2018.  
  
Above the ground, she rested on the branch of her favorite mallorn. She had done this for the longest time, whenever she needed to retreat to think about things, she came to this spot. Her mind was instantly free to recall the last conversation that Elrohir and she had had before he had left to return to Imladris. Once Elrond had heard his sons were safe, he immediately began planning for them another task in which to aid the Fellowship.  
  
"Anaire," Elrohir had said, "it was your voice that brought me out of the place without light back into the light. Since I have awoken, you have not spoken. Why are you afraid to use your beautiful voice?"  
  
It wasn't like she hadn't ignored questions she hadn't wanted to answer before. This time was different for he had saved her and this was all he wanted in return, an answer. In this way, she began, that I speak, it is the same.  
  
"But it is not," he responded. "It is not the same, perhaps similar yet not the same. I know it is your nightmares that closed your voice and muted you. I know that you relive the pain whenever you confront the darkness. And I know you have the strength to do this, thus you have the power to use your voice because not using it is a gift that is wasted. That only satisfies the darkness."  
  
For the longest time, they stared at each other before Elrohir made his required departure. "I do not know when I will see you again, muinthell nin. Keep safe and keep my words in your mind," he whispered softly, bending down to kiss her forehead. "I will see you again. Im wad."  
  
Goodbye, she said before taking a deep trembling breath, "Elrohir."  
  
The smile that graced his face, she'd always remember. As she reflected on it now, a glimmer of a smile appeared on her own face. Yet, it faded quickly because she still had not done what his words urged her to do. Galadriel and Celeborn knew she had spoken aloud, but to them she had not yet let hear her physical voice. Her brother understood her fears truly for when she had cried out against the orcs for torturing her, they had only struck her more. It had not been long after that she muted her and not long after that, she had shut her mind completely off. It was only with the detachment of body and mind that she had been able to survive.  
  
From below she was distracted by Haldir's distinctive voice, "You have not forgotten about practice have you, Anaire?"  
  
She shook her head. She had not forgotten. An amusing thought crossed her mind: as if Haldir would let her forget. Standing straight up on the branch, she paused before she leapt off of it. She heard him catch his breath as he always did when she did that particular stunt. She didn't know why; she'd never gotten hurt doing it. The height she'd fallen from wasn't nearly as high as she normally jump from anyhow. But Haldir was Haldir.  
  
"You still have to improve your use with the sword," he remarked, drawing his blade out. "You wield it like it weighs a score more than it should. It is not wrong to handle it with two hands if you need to. You must not allow the sword to slow you down as much as it does. Wielding this blade is much different than your knives, but you treat it as if it were entirely foreign."  
  
I am never going to be very skilled at this, she said resignedly, not sounding like her usual quietly determined self. It feels awkward. She griped the sword firmly, ready whenever Haldir decided to start his attack. I am ready when you are, Haldir.  
  
He didn't give her a warning; he never did. As he told her pointedly, the enemy was not going to give her a forewarning of their attack--- they'd just attack. Like usual, she was able to fend off his assault by focusing hard on what move he'd make when. But as normal, she tired and grew weary until even knowing what he was going to do didn't help. She knew he made all these sweeping moves to tire her out, and it always worked. It wasn't like she couldn't meet him edge to edge, she did have to protect herself. There was no other way but to do what he forced her to do.  
  
"Are you trying?" he goaded. "Because to me you are not." It brought a spark in her that was only momentary. It was all too soon when he had his sword against her neck, his blade resting on her vulnerable flesh. "That ended too fast," he admonished. "You normally last far longer than what you have this morning."  
  
Many elves would think Haldir was overly harsh and pushed her too hard, but it was for her own good. If he hadn't prepared her as he had, she wouldn't have been able to hold out against the Ulairi for as long as she had. If she had not, she and Elrohir would have perished. When she decided to take up a weapon again, she had vowed to herself to be able to be able to protect herself by herself.  
  
"We have no more time," Haldir declared, sheathing his sword back into his scabbard. "Lady Galadriel told me to inform you to meet her at the Mirror. I will see you when you are through, Istelile."  
  
She wanted to speak to him, but it was not yet the time. Not quite yet. You know where I will be after I see amme. He knew, she'd be near her mallorn somewhere. He watched her go with a heavy heart, not because she was not ready--- she was ready. He was not sure he was ready to watch her go without him to guard over her. Letting her leave once was difficult enough.  
  
~  
  
From the deepest chasms of Moria sprang a balrog, a demon of the ancient world, determined to stop the Fellowship, unwavering as it stood ready to fight its fight. But it was not going to be easy for Gandalf was not going to let it be easy for the balrog. Once everyone was safely across the bridge, he made his stand, placing himself between the balrog and the Fellowship.  
  
"You cannot pass," Gandalf declared.  
  
From the safety of the other side, Frodo cried out, "Gandalf!"  
  
A flame spread its intense wave across the balrog. "I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! Dark fire shall not avail you, flame of Udun!"  
  
The balrog merely drew a flamign sword and swung it at Gandalf, who blocked it swiftly with his staff. "Go back to the shadow! You shall not pass!"  
  
To emphasize this grandiose statement, he slammed his staff into the ground, a flash of brilliant white light swept the balrog back. But it did not take the warning, for it stepped onto the bridge that quickly gave away. The balrog fell, managing to draw its whip of fire, that catches Gandalf's ankle when victory and triumph is near, to pull him down to the depressing depths. For a moment, the wizard held the edge, however brief.  
  
"Fly, you fools!" Those last words, those lost words were all that were left as Gandalf followed his nemesis into the fiery abyss.  
  
~  
  
Time was fading. Time was quickening. Time was coming. It was going to be soon. It was approaching swiftly. There was no time to waste. Still, in Lothlorien there was a bewildering peace that belied the unsteadiness of what was soon to be. For she had seen, she had witnessed what tragedy had already taken place.  
  
"Come closer," Galadriel urged when she heard the soft footsteps of her Fanyarelisse. "Look into the Mirror. It has something it wants to show you."  
  
Once she reached Galadriel's side, she peered onto the silver surface of the Mirror, watching as Galadriel poured more water to swirl the potent images that were beginning to appear. Once the ripples smoothed away, the images sharpened and she saw the mourning faces of the Fellowship. All were filled with sorrow, but Frodo's was the most poignant. The Mirror, sensing her interest, drew closer to the hobbit until Anaire saw in the reflection of Frodo's eyes--- Gandalf, falling after battling the balrog.  
  
The consequences she understood were grave for Gandalf had been the one with the mindset to keep the focus and the faith. He was the one that kept the Fellowship together and strong. With him gone, it rested as her eyes did on Aragorn. As had been predicted and foreseen that his War of the Ring would be won only by the valor of men. It was only in men did even a show of a remained.  
  
So you have seen, so you have witnessed, Galadriel began, Mithrandir's fall was unfortunate, his loss will be hard for all the companions, especially Frodo who needs all the strength he has. Yet, Aragorn has risen as men will do in times of need to be great. He is reaching there, he is fulfilling the mark of his birth as the heir to the throne of men. Yet, Frodo too has overcome the trials and grown above all other hobbit kind by his deeds. These two will see it through.  
  
There was silence as another image replaced what had already come to pass. This, Anaire knew, was what possibly may be. Her eyes were filled with the impressions of suffering, of torture, of agony, of blood and of death. That was to be the end if Sauron won the One Ring back. You know what you must do, Galadriel's knowing voice filled her head, do you not?  
  
She did not. Everything was changing rapidly, what might be the one course one day was not the direction to choose the next. She did not know her path until the day arrived that she had to choose. This day was not quite the day where she needed to decide. Doubts plauged her mind because she was not sure of herself. "I do not know yet," she said aloud without truly realized it until she saw the astonishment on Galadriel's face. Amme?  
  
"I had heard that your voice had called Elrohir back to us," she responded. "So you speak with your voice, that is good. You are finally recovering, are you not? It has taken much time, but this is the time when wholeness is needed. The end has begun. What end will it be?"  
  
~  
  
They had departed Moria. They had left it's dark and tainted caves. Corrupted by the orcs, stained by the blood of the dwarves, and yet there was no joy in the leaving. They had left one of their own behind; Gandalf had remained by the virtue of protecting all of them. If it was not for Gandalf, they would not have made it out of Moria.  
  
Frodo's decision was haunting him. Maybe, it would have been wiser to take the Pass of Rohan, even if it did pass too close to Isengard. The choice had been his to make. There was no taking it back, but that still did not keep it from tormenting his mind. It was his choice; it was his decision that had doomed Gandalf. To live with that burden, however long it may be, was crushing.  
  
"Legolas, get them up!" Aragorn declared, his eyes already surveying the land to choose the path to take to get them to their destination as quickly as possible.  
  
Boromir, feeling sympathy for the pain apparent in the hobbits, cried out, "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"  
  
"By nightfall these hills will be crawling with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Gimli, Legolas, get them up! On your feet, Sam. Frodo?"  
  
It was too much, this weight that he must bear. But bear it he must, that didn't prevent the tears that were threatening to spill, that did fall from his sorrow filled eyes. There was a great pain. There was a great sorrow. Yet, continue they must. It was what Gandalf would have wanted.  
  
~  
  
She stood next to the mallorn, her silver hair cascading around her willowy form whenever the wind decided to blow around her. She made a lovely sight against the impending shadows, a ray of light. He took his time approaching her, careful not to make a sound until he was right behind her so that she did not know he was. Whenever she grew reflective, it was easy to surprise her.  
  
Raising his hands up, he covered her eyes with his palms. She did not move, and he did not say anything. There was no doubt to Anaire who it was. No one dared to come to her like that, only Haldir--- only he dared. Haldir, she murmured, trying to surprise me?  
  
"To keep you on your toes," he explained. "It is not good to become that far gone in your thoughts that you are not even ready for an enemy to spring on you from behind unexpectedly."  
  
I am fine when I know I must be aware, she responded. Do not be anxious, have I not proven I can concentrate when I have been on the Guard with you?  
  
He nodded. She had, which was why he was here. He had something he wanted to ask of her. "Yes, you have proven your worth. Your eyes and your ears are far keener than most elves. While you are here Anaire, however long that may be, I ask of you to rejoin the Guard with me."  
  
She slowly turned to face him, her grey eyes gazing deeply into his blue eyes. Before Celeborn had asked Haldir to let her go with him, which was why Haldir had prepared her and asked her. Her adar was not behind this, Haldir wanted her by his side. It was an honor for he chose only the best. What you ask, I will do.  
  
The grin on his face lightened up his usually stern features. She was momentarily taken back by the superfluous emotion coming from him. Like her, he was vigilant in keeping his face like a statue. She often heard his two younger brothers teasing him playfully about that. Haldir never reprimanded his younger siblings, treating them to the silence treatment that forced them to change the subject matter rather quickly.  
  
"I am glad that you will return to the Guard, others will be too."  
  
~  
  
The distance of the silver trees had been swallowed by their steady progress. The Fellowship were amid the strangely sacred mellyrn, feeling edgy yet not afraid. It was a distinctive emotion, though it was not alarming. For there was so much beauty, so much splendor to behold that it was simply overwhelming.  
  
"Stay close, young hobbits," Gimli warned. "They say a great sorceress lives here, an elf-witch of terrible power. All those who look upon her fall under her spell, and are never seen again."  
  
From still afar, Galadriel saw their coming. Frodo, she thought as she peered at their progress in her Mirror, your coming is as the footsteps of doom. You bring a great evil here, Ringbearer.  
  
"Well, this is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily!" Gimli exclaimed. "I have the eyes of a hawk, and the ears of a fox!"  
  
The Galadhrim elves smiled to themselves briefly before they answered the signal that Haldir had given them, drawing their bows and coming into view. Ever since the Fellowship had entered into the Golden Woods, they had been following carefully behind. Trailing them to make sure that their intent was not to disturb, that all they sought was passage. In such unsteady times, one could never be sure.  
  
At the very front of the group, Haldir stood proudly, his golden strands gleaming in the weak sunlight. "The dwarf breathes so loudly we could have shot in the dark," the March Warden declared easily for only Legolas had been fast enough to aim his arrow at the archer that was aiming at him.  
  
"Haldir of Lorien," Aragorn declared, "we have come for help. We need your protection."  
  
The tension in the air was unbearable as the elves stared at the Fellowship with a calm that was unnerving. What broke the pressure was when the archer that had his bow pointed at Legolas lowered it and pulled back his hood. The silvery tresses of Istelile, Lorien's silver star, blew around as the wind picked up. When Legolas saw who it was, he also dropped his bow. "I did not know it was you." He was about to kneel before her, but she prevented him from doing so.  
  
"How does Legolas know her?" Gimli asked. "How does..." The dwarf's voice trailed off as the greater majority of the Galadhrim bows pointed toward him.  
  
To Legolas's shock, she knelt down before him and placed his hand on her heart before she released his hand. Thank you, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
"For what?" he inquired.  
  
The herbs that you have me, she answered simply. It saved my brother's life. For that, Legolas Greenleaf, I thank you. After she had told him thus, she rose up and gazed directly at Haldir. It is okay, Haldir. They are the Fellowship of the Ring. Safe passage, we must give to them. Shifting her face to Aragorn, she welcomed him, Mae govannen, Estel. Her eyes shone when she saw the evenstar at the hollow of his throat. You wear it well. (You are welcomed here)  
  
After Haldir gestured for them to do as their Istelile had done, the Galadhrims lowered their bows, but with a moment's warning they were ready to aim again. Haldir's eyes rested upon Gimli, and he said bluntly, "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Golden Woods. You cannot go back. Come. She is waiting. But none of dwarven kind has ever laid eyes on the majesty of Lorien. None shall. The dwarf must be blindfolded."  
  
One of the elven guard stepped forward with a black cloth, prepared to blind the dwarf's eyes, but Gimli avoided the Galadhrim deftly and declared with a furious tone, "I will not stand such treatment by elves!"  
  
Aragorn stepped in before the elves and Gimli truly lost their tempers. "We will all wear the blindfolds."  
  
She had not been paying attention to what was going on around her, for her grey eyes had been caught by Frodo, the young hobbit that carried the weight of the world. In his eyes, she saw his pain, for it was the very same pain she had once suffered through herself. When this journey was over, when the task was seen through, she did not think even the most brilliant of stars could ever cast out the darkness that was in his heart now. This would stay with him.  
  
Her eyes shifted when she caught Aragorn's statement to Legolas, noticing his visible disappointment in missing the spectacular beauty of Lothlorien. After all, all elves once should see the loveliness that was Lorien. Yes, Imladris and Mirkwood were beautiful in their own way, but Lothlorien was different--- it was ruled by the hand of a Lady. She was partial, yet she believed it was the most beautiful of all the elven strongholds.  
  
I owe Legolas, she told Haldir. In the package he gave, there was mirkweed. It was what saved Elrohir. It is naked to the eye that he desires to see Lothlorien.  
  
"It is up to you, Istelile."  
  
Remove his blindfold.  
  
"Then you can, I will not stop you."  
  
The Fellowship was no doubt wondering who Haldir was speaking to, but the Galadhrim knew. They had grown use the one sided conversations. They knew not to ask, for they'd not be answered. It was beginning to darken, so the elves started to move the Fellowship forward when Anaire placed her hands on Legolas's face. She gently caressed him, letting him know it was a friend not foe. From her touch, she felt the tension in his lean muscular body. Patiently, she waited until he relaxed before she undid the cloth.  
  
Once she did that, he whirled around to confront her, grabbing her by the wrists. When he saw who it was, he dropped his hold in her immediately, but his wondering gaze did not stop searching her eyes for an answer. You saved my brother, she explained. It is a small things for me to grant for what you have given. It is only this that I can offer in return.  
  
His heart pounded wildly because of the close proximity she was to him. If he moved forward a little, they'd be touching again. But he didn't, and she moved the hood back onto her solemn face before she ran lightly to the front of the group. He watched her featherlike movements as she easily surged to Haldir's side. From the close contact between them, he wondered what sort of relationship the two of them shared.  
  
There was relief in Haldir's mind when his Istelile was once again by his side. When he had seen Legolas grab Anaire's wrist, he'd had to control the urge to interrupt them. For he knew that the Mirkwood Prince had not meant to do what he had done. It'd been an unwitting move born from the dangerous journey he'd partaken in. Once he realized who it was, he'd released his hold swiftly. That instinctive move was what Haldir wanted ingrained into Anaire, but as of yet, he'd had no luck.  
  
The overpowering emotions from Haldir's and Legolas's mind made it difficult for her not to peek into their consciousness. But she did not allow herself the temptation, since she had promised Galadriel not to take advantage of the minds of those that were friends unless given permission. Only in time of need did she not need consent. But it was hard not to take one glance, to dip in for a minute. She sighed and focused on the mellyrn around her, anything but the lure of reading open minds.  
  
~  
  
Their arrival was expected. It was the reason Galadriel had specifically chosen Haldir's guard to greet them. She had a feeling that Anaire knew what was coming, but she had not asked any questions. She never did. She did what she was told like a good child did. But the time was coming when she could no longer decide the path for her Fanyarelisse anymore. That she'd have to decide on her own. No one could make the decision for her. Not even Galadriel.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Wow, reviews are nice and they're getting insightful! Thanks! I really like it when you predict ahead, it makes me think as well! Especially if you're thinking ahead more than I am! Thanks for all the reviews thus far, they've been AWESOME! 


	8. Arc 1: The Way Will Leads

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
All those that review almost every chapter, or every chapter: I COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader!  
  
~  
  
8: The Way Will Leads(February 20, 2003 to February 22, 2003)  
  
Standing before the entering Fellowship were the golden couple of Celeborn and Galadriel. To Galadriel's immediate right was Anaire, cloaked and hidden. To Celeborn's left was Haldir, tall and strong. "Eight there are there, but nine there were set out from Rivendell," Celeborn noted. "Where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him."  
  
Galadriel spoke for the words of the Fellowship could not find a voice, "He is fallen into the shadow." She gazed intensely at all. "The quest stands on the edge of a knife, stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all." Her eyes settled on Frodo and Sam. "Yet hope remains as long as company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now, and rest, for you are weary with toil and much sorrow. Tonight you shall rest in peace."  
  
Despite that her eyes were veiled, Anaire saw all. She saw the worry in Boromir's eyes; she saw the astonishment in Gimli's; she saw the respect in Estel's; she saw the conflict in Frodo's; she saw the hope in Legolas's. Everything was fine as long as one remained to carry that fading light, that dimming hope. It was not only in Legolas, she saw the very same glow in Sam, Frodo's companion. In him, there was a greatness not yet found. At the end, she thought that his heart was to be tested to a like degree as Frodo's.  
  
Welcome, Frodo of the Shire, Galadriel greeted, one who has seen the Eye.  
  
~  
  
The lament of Mithrandir had begun. The lyrical voices of the elves rose up in a dirge to remember the passing of a great ally and a true friend. They sang of his wisdom, of his deeds, how his heart had never corrupted, how it had stayed pure. As the song reached its height, they spoke of how they'd miss him, but that his sacrifice had not been in vain for those others that remained would carry the burden on.  
  
Once this peak was reached, Anaire felt that it was okay to go off on her own path, to think of the route to take. Leaning against the mallorn tree that had been her refuge and sanctuary for many years, she thought about what Galadriel had told her not too long ago, that she'd know her destiny. She did not know it yet, she only hoped that she would realize it soon. Looking up at the stars, she prayed for Elentari to guide her.  
  
"When you need to think, this is a good place to be," Legolas commented as he emerged before her hazy eyes. "I wanted to thank you for letting me see Lorien's splendor. I will not forget it, and I am glad I will carry this majestic vision onward."  
  
He did not expect her to respond for she seemed lost in her own inner world. How did you know your path?  
  
His deep blue eyes gazed intensely into her own. "I know," he began, "not why only that I must do what my heart was urging me to do. I was not conscious of what I was doing. All that I knew that was when I offered Frodo my bow, I meant every word. For the purpose, I would have laid down my life."  
  
From the flickering emotions on his face, she surmised that he had told her more than he had told anyone of his choice. While what he told her was helpful, she needed more--- she needed to know everything. I know this is much to ask from one that you do not know well, but will you open your mind to me? She held her hand out for him to take. If you take my hand, you allow me the privilege. If you do not, I understand.  
  
He took her hand without hesitation and with her surprising strength, she pulled him to her and rested her head on his chest as she poured through his available soul. It was a surreal feeling, this departure into his being--- her mind was infused with his. She had thought Arwen was the purest soul to glimpse into, but she was vastly mistaken for despite the road of shadows he had traveled, his psyche was pure.  
  
It was his overpowering idealism, his undeniable courage, his faithful heart that had decided his path for him. It was not in him to not offer his bow, and though he feared not returning to see his father, Thranduil, he was filled with his strength of purpose that wiped all other fears aside. If she had his resolve, she too would know her path. He was absolutely certain, perhaps even coming off as condescending at times, after all he was a Prince.  
  
She understood what had driven him, but though she read other minds and other hearts--- she could not read her own. No longer did she peer into his mind but her own. The longer she searched, the less she found. She did not know. Maybe she would have an epiphany like he had and simply decide at the moment what way her fate pointed. As of yet, the road before her winded and weaved, but was hidden by a haze that blocked her eyes from seeing.  
  
"Haldir is here," Legolas whispered softly to her.  
  
It took a while for her to drag her mind from the abyss it had fallen into. When she was aware of her surroundings, she found herself clutching Legolas with her arms, holding onto him like she'd been drowning. When she released him from her embrace and turned to meet Haldir's gaze, she saw the intent inquiry. But Haldir was not going to openly push her for an answer until she was ready to give it to him, he only pushed her with her physical skills.  
  
There was explaining for her to do because she knew how it looked. It was compromising for her since she rarely embraced anyone and then it was usually only Adar that she allowed to hold her. Good night, Legolas Greenleaf, she said softly before she walked toward Haldir and together they disappeared down the pathway they always walked together. Legolas watched them leave with eyes that were enthralled by the link he again felt to her.  
  
Both of them had walked to her flet without saying anything. It was not unusual for they were not the chattering type. He was busy thinking of what had happened, she was consumed with thinking of how to explain. I know you are wondering what I was doing with Legolas.  
  
"It has crossed my mind many times in the passing minutes, I do not deny."  
  
I wanted to discern his purpose for joining the Fellowship, she answered his statement. I had to know how he knew to know my own.  
  
"Did you find your answer?" he inquired. She shrugged. She had not. He knew better than to pursue. "Do not think because the Fellowship is here that I will let you off in the mornings, Istelile. Be early and alert tomorrow morning. Be ready."  
  
I do not expect anything less from you.  
  
Haldir gave her the special smile that was reserved only for her. "That is good."  
  
~  
  
She saw her Amme at the Mirror. She was about to go to Galadriel when she noticed Frodo was there. It was not the time to disturb even if she wished to hear. She was about to drift away and return when it was time for her to confront her choice when her eyes met Galadriel's. There was acceptance and there was no admonishment, she was allowed to stay, to observe as long as she did not disturb. That she'd not do, she'd wait until she could tell her Amme what was plaguing her consciousness.  
  
"Will you look into the mirror?" Galadriel inquired.  
  
Frodo was not unwise to ask, "What will I see?"  
  
"Not even the wisest can say, for the Mirror shows many great things," the Lady of Light murmured. "Things that are, things that were, and some things that have not yet come to pass."  
  
Anaire saw that he glanced and that what he saw was no good. His face was a mixture of horror and tragedy as he saw what was to be. It was indeed the very likeness of what she had seen those many years ago. The terror, the destruction, the impending end that was coming--- that was approaching. Her heart went out to him, her soul wanted to comfort him. To see such a vision that was filled with such hopeless hopelessness was heartbreaking.  
  
"I know what it is you have seen, for it is also in my mind," Galadriel remarked. "It is what will come to pass if you should fail. The Fellowship is breaking. Already it has begun. He will try to take the ring. You know of whom I speak. One by one, it will destroy all."  
  
"If you ask it of me, I will give you the One Ring."  
  
"You offer it to me freely," she noted with a tone of undeniable yearning. "I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this."  
  
From where she stood, Anaire watched the dark light cover the Lady of Light with its shadow and its power when she touched the One Ring. It was terrible to watch as her adopted mother transformed into a being that was above all else filled with the want, the longing to overpower and destroy all that was good. What was even more tormenting was to hear the awful beauty of Galadriel's declaration:  
  
"Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!"  
  
Yet, Anaire knew that this was not her Amme. This was not the Lady of Light; this was not the Lady of Lothlorien. This was not Galadriel, her adopted mother. It was with no astonishment that she watched Galadriel back away from the One Ring. Age passed over her features, a joylessness of doing right, but Anaire knew that when time had passed there was to be no regret in Galadriel.  
  
"I passed the test," the Lady of Light whispered. "I will diminish, and go into the west, and remain Galadriel."  
  
There was a weariness in Frodo as he cried out, "I cannot do this alone."  
  
There was a sympathy in the renewed Galadriel, having chosen the light--- the remaining faith. "You are a Ringbearer, Frodo. To bear a ring of power is to be alone. This task was appointed to you, and if you do find a way, no one will."  
  
"Then, I know what I must do. It's just I am afraid to do it."  
  
A beautiful smile of reassurance and comfort grace Galadriel's lips. "Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."  
  
You have the strength, Frodo Baggins, Anaire murmured as she appeared from the covering that had disguised her presence. Do not fear the task that you have been given for it was given to you for you are the only one that is able to bear it. Trust in faith, trust in hope, it is all that is left to believe in.  
  
The hobbit was mesmerized by the silver light that surrounded Anaire as she knelt down before him. There was something even more ethereal about her at this moment than Galadriel had been when he had first seen her at their welcoming into Lothlorien. This Silver Lady was surreal, out of place in the imminent darkness to come. "I will," he vowed. "I promise."  
  
"Rest awaits you, Ringbearer," Galadriel stated. "Go now and seek the solace that sleep gives." It was when he had made his departure, that she turned her eyes to stare at her Fanyarelisse. I know what you wish to speak to me of, but there is nothing further I can be to guide you. Celeborn wishes to speak to you though, I will get him.  
  
Amme? Galadriel paused from the flight she was taking to fetch her husband so that he may speak to his Estelinde. You say I know, yet I do not. But I will know before the night is over what my course I will take.  
  
There was nothing for Galadriel to say to her student, to her only remaining daughter.  
  
She did not have to wait long for Celeborn. It was if when she lifted her head, he was--- the one she had allowed to be closest to her physical, and perhaps even mentally. It was a toss up in the mind, who truly was closest to her, was it Arwen? Galadriel? or Him? In intimate affection, it was him that she had turned to when Elrohir had left her all those many years ago. In him, she found her comfort. It was the same now as it was then as she ran into his open arms. Adar.  
  
"Estelinde," he whispered tenderly, he still called her by the name he had chosen when they were alone, "Galadriel has told me that you do not know the way to go, that you are lost in an endless abyss with no idea of which direction to face. If there is indecision, you do not need to make a decision. Sometimes, Galadriel pushes when patience is necessary. If this is such a time, you must let me know."  
  
She rested her head against the shoulder that he offered, allowing him to stroke her long flowing silver strands. Even if Amme knew her better, it was Adar that she trusted the most. Maybe it was that he accepted her for who she was without knowing who she really was. In Galadriel, she sensed still that the Lady was trying to find her Celebrian in her. It was an unconscious action that had faded with time but still managed to be vaguely present.  
  
Adar, she responded, what plagues my heart is that I want to know my will, but yet I am afraid of at the same time. What if the road I choose is not the one that I am meant to follow? What if the destiny I see is not the fate that is foreseen?  
  
"Nothing chosen is ever wrong," Celeborn answered, caressing her comfortingly. "There are better decisions and there are choices that are not so wise, but none is ever wrong. If it brings regret, that is tragic. For one is never to look back and wonder what might be, there is the present and the future. One cannot change what has already passed. If you are not ready, do not look ahead, merely look at what path the present has for you. It is never wrong to trust your heart."  
  
He drew away from his adopted daughter and brushed a kiss on her forehead. Thank you, Adar. Your words of wisdom have lightened the weight that is bearing down on my heart. I will not regret the way my will leads me, I will rely on my heart.  
  
"Anaire," he murmured, "my Estelinde, whenever times grow dark and the light fades into oblivion, remember that your voice has always, even with no voice, been uplifting."  
  
"Adar," she whispered softly, wanting him to hear her true voice, the voice she had lost and found in tragedy. You are too good to me.  
  
He shook his head, not surprised that she had spoken. He had heard Elrohir's story, he had been told of what had been spoken to Galadriel. It nevertheless touched him. It was not everyday a child muted by anguish regained enough of what once was to again speak. It was hard for her he knew, but it gladdened his heart to hear her speak to him. "I only wish that I could hideaway all the pain that is going to surround us from you."  
  
You cannot, Adar, she responded. No one can hide, not anymore. The decision made must be followed through. I will go where my heart leads me. I know what I must do. I am not afraid any longer. There are no regrets if tomorrow is to come. You are right. There is the present and the future, one cannot change what has already been.  
  
"Yes, there is only this present and that future, the future that must be saved from darkness. The present is filled with shadows," Celeborn observed. "It must be removed if what will come not be the doom that is Sauron's. If you have made your choice in your fate, I only hope that Elbereth keeps you safe until we see each other again."  
  
Yes, there was an understanding between Celeborn and Anaire that went deeper than even Anaire's connection with Galadriel. It had been the Lord of Lothlorien that had stayed by her side during the years that it had taken her to recover enough to be semi-active in society again. During that time, Celeborn had been the main one to encourage her, to urge her to make a full return. It was two hundred years in the making, but she was coming back to them. Though, it was not in the best circumstances, at least she was regaining a sense of herself before the doom fell.  
  
~  
  
The Fellowship was ready to depart from Lothlorien after receiving their numerous parting gifts that was to aid them on their continuing perilous journey. The last gift given was that of Galadriel's to Frodo. "Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Earendil, our most beloved star. Namarie. May it be a light for you in dark places, where all other lights go out."  
  
The members were about to board their boats when Anaire appeared from underneath the foliage of the forest, declaring in a weak, but strangely forceful voice, "I do not know what strength I have, but I know what I must do." She stared directly at Galadriel. Amme, you knew what choice my heart was to make. You knew before I did what I must do. That is why you asked, not to push, not to force, but to make sure. I am sure. This is my fate. She shifted her gaze to Celeborn. Thank you, Adar. I will not forget.  
  
Without further ado, she went to Frodo and bowed to him as she would have bowed to him at the Council of Elrond in Imladris had her sworn father not prevented her from doing so. She saw, that what he had done was right. That Galadriel had stopped her from joining then to strengthen her in the situation with Elrohir first. First, she must be whole before joining. Now that she was whole, her path was cleared and made visible. I have nothing to offer but my heart, Frodo, but that I give all freely.  
  
Frodo's hand touched her chin to lift her face up and said softly to her, "That is all that can be asked."  
  
A glimmer of a smile graced her lips as she straightened up to stand tall by Frodo's side. The road was not going to be an easy one, but it was the way that she was to lead. With a heavy heart, she was saying goodbye to the only home that she had ever known, to the only parents she knew. But she was not going to back down, this was her fate, whether it was the best fate was remained to be seen. Her heart resolute, she placed her bag on the closest boat, incidentally the same boat that Legolas and Gimli were preparing.  
  
"May the light of Elbereth shine upon you, my Fanyarelisse, the Istelile of Lothlorien," Galadriel murmured as she lifted her hand up to give them a farewell. "May even in times of darkness, the light that is within you overcome the shadows that surround."  
  
The Lord of Lothlorien said nothing, he had said everything the other night. One elf that had known of her intentions, broke through the ranks and shouted, "If you are to go, I will go with you." It was Haldir. It was not a declaration to be taken lightly for he was not the type of leave his beloved Lothlorien. "I will protect you with my life, I vowed it--- it cannot be taken back."  
  
"No," she said simply. You cannot leave Lothlorien, she told him regretfully. It would have been a comfort to her to have him go, but she knew that this journey, this route was not meant for him. If there was one place meant for him in all of Middle Earth, it was here in the ethereal beauty of Lothlorien. This was where Haldir belonged. This is where you are meant to be.  
  
"It does not matter," Haldir responded. "Wherever you go, I will go. It is that simple. I will not leave you to the dangers that are waiting for the Fellowship. If I cannot convince you to stay, I know that I cannot, then I must go to make sure that you are safe."  
  
You cannot.  
  
It was then that Legolas stepped in. "I will lay down my life for her," he said solemnly in full seriousness. "Do not worry, the Fellowship watches out for its own. She will be safe."  
  
"Like it protected Gandalf?"  
  
A strain of unbearable pain appeared on Frodo's face at Haldir's carelessly meant rebuke. I will protect myself. Neither of the two male elves heard her mental assertion. They were still staring each other down, measuring each other with their eyes. I do not need your protection, she sent this clear message to both of their minds. I will protect myself. I will.  
  
Having said that, she bent down on her knees in front of Frodo and held out her arms to him. I know what pain is in you for it is the same pain I have felt. It was then that her eyes filled with tears as the horrible epiphany overcame her at what she had unconsciously said. It was no wonder she had felt this strange connection to Frodo, their shared experiences were alike.  
  
No, she did not remember who she was, what her name was. But the nightmarish vision was unmistakably from her past. It was right before the orcs had tortured her physically. She knew now why Celeborn meant so much to her because before her eyes she watched the orcs that were to abuse her murder her father--- yes, she knew the elf she saw being slaughtered brutally was her father. The tears slid down her face as she held Frodo in her arms for her reassurance as much as his.  
  
Haldir was stricken to see his Istelile openly weeping. Legolas was also paralyzed in a like manner. But Galadriel assured them both that it was not their fault. "She partially remembers what has passed. But Haldir, she is right, you cannot leave Lothlorien." Her March Warden turned to her defiantly, but respectfully listening to what she continued to say, "It is her road to take, it is not yours." Lorien needs you.  
  
Frodo did not know what to do, all he wanted to do was to comfort her as she had done the same to him yester-evening. His hear was much relieved when Celeborn came and took his Estelinde into his arms, soothing her with his soft strokes and calming caresses. "So you have seen what Galadriel has known for a long while," he murmured. "I had hoped that you would not, but now that you have you must let it go. It is the past, there is naught you can do."  
  
Her tears subsided and she nodded. There was nothing she could do to change it. She took a shaky breath and drew away from Celeborn. You are my Adar, she told him. You always will be. He smiled at her and kissed her one last time on the forehead.  
  
"And you are my Estelinde, always."  
  
"I cannot help but go," Haldir responded to Galadriel with a heavy heart, turning to Anaire with earnest eyes. "I cannot let her go alone. She needs me." He was trying to convince his Lady as much as he was his Istelile.  
  
That is true, she murmured, approaching him and letting him hold her tightly. But you are needed here. Lorien needs you. And I must do this alone. You must understand Haldir. You must protect Lorien.  
  
It was same thing Galadriel had said in his mind. There was nothing he could do but let her go. It was what was determined for him to do, so he nodded and dropped his arms from her side. The last thing he did was stare Legolas straight into the eye. "You promise to watch over her with your life."  
  
"That I will," Legolas swore. "That I will."  
  
With the heaviest of hearts, Haldir let her go. His was not the only one that was suffering. If anything, Galadriel was the one that was tormented the most. Her inside felt like it was being gnawed out by the fact that she knew that this journey was doomed to end in doom. She had foreseen the end, the end that was destruction. She hoped, she prayed that it was not the end that would be. That was still to be decided, and yet it was a possibility. The Fellowship was setting out on the thoroughfare of disaster.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Wow, reviews are nice and they're getting insightful! Thanks! I really like it when you predict ahead, it makes me think as well! Especially if you're thinking ahead more than I am! Thanks for all the reviews thus far, they've been AWESOME! Everyone seems to want 2 things: Haldir x Anaire and that Haldir does not die. Well you will definitely get one of those things, of which I will not divulge ^-^;; quite yet. As that I'm undecided over many things, I am happy to say I've decided on one course of action! Will leads the way! 


	9. Arc 2: A Life Taken

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
I ADORE all my REVIEWERS. *hugs* Thanks you guys!  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! The awesome author of Sarlisse! (which I beta!)  
  
~  
  
9: A Life Taken (February 23, 2003 to February 26, 2003)  
  
Three boats set out. One carrying Aragorn, Sam, and Frodo; the other holding Boromir, Pippin, and Merry; the last containing Legolas, Gimli, and Anaire. It was in that order the boats were speeding down the river, the path to their destination that was ultimately to lead them to the very depths of Mordor. Legolas and Anaire were chosen to lead up the rear because with their elven senses, they would be able to give far better warning to those ahead of them of the danger that was not to be seen from behind. Besides, Legolas and Gimli were both adamant and adept fighters that were capable of protecting the rear guard well.  
  
The ride was soothing and steady enough that Gimli was allowed the chance to openly admire the lock of hair that he had asked from Galadriel as his gift. He sighed and rested it against his cheek. Having met the Lady of the Golden Wood, his opinion of elves had rapidly morphed from one of distrust to open admiration. It didn't hurt that Legolas had saved his life either, but truly it was the Lady of Lothlorien that had transformed his estimation of elven kind.  
  
She has never done that before, she told Gimli. You are truly a special dwarf to receive such a gift from Amme. Though she was unsmiling, the light in her grey eyes were filled with a glow that was enchanting to his own eyes.  
  
Actually, as he studied her carefully, there was the same aura about her that he sensed around Galadriel. There was something surreal about her that was the same sensation he got from the Lady of Light. It was otherworldly, mysterious, and knowing. It was lucky that his beard covered up most of his face when he caught Legolas giving him a blandly curious expression for he was certain that his cheeks had turned a crimson color. "Thanks," he muttered, quickly averting his eyes elsewhere, anywhere but Anaire's intriguingly lovely face. "Your Amme is special."  
  
So that was what they were talking about, from what Legolas could tell from the rather one-sided conversation. It was only when Gimli had spoken that he was able to confirm his guess. It wasn't hard to deduct since Gimli was caressing Galadriel's golden lock of hair like it was the most precious jewel, this coming from a dwarf. It was almost funny, but he was not able to laugh because he respected Gimli as a companion and as a friend.  
  
"Anaire," he said her name softly, delicately, as it was meant to be said, for it was a beautiful name--- it suited her well, "your hair needs to be braided." It was not what he had meant to say at first, but it had occurred to him as he had paused to let his words caught up to his thoughts that that was necessary and needed. Her flowing silver strands would only impede her, she needed to have them bound into braids.  
  
Her hands flew to her silver tresses that were flying wherever the wind blew. She knew that Legolas was right, she had not even thought of that. At the least, it gave her something to do while she sat in the middle of the boat. Neither Gimli nor Legolas would allow her to help with the boat's progress, so she had nothing to do. But this was quite necessary. If she did not get her hair bound, it'd indeed was going to be a hindrance.  
  
Watching her braid her hair enraptured Legolas, her hands were graceful and skillful as she threaded her hair into the traditional braids with a quick and swift ease. It wasn't long before her fingers had finished weaving her hair into the intricate knots, smoothing away all the unruliness that the wind had caused when it had run its airy fingers through her locks. Despite that her hair was bound to the back, her face was distinctively feminine, even with the awful scar that traced her cheek. That scar made him remember the turmoil that she'd been through.  
  
His eyes never left her face even to behold the two enormous statues of men in armor that flanked each side of the river, their left hands stretched out in a gesture of warding. He only saw the reflection of appreciation in her steel eyes as they past them by. He had to be jolted from his ardent admiration by Gimli, who said loudly, "I know that I have the strength of many men and several elves, but I still need your help to beach the boat."  
  
He thought he caught a trace of an amused smile on her lips. Was it his imagination--- that she was smiling? He wasn't sure because when he did a double take, it was gone--- erased from his vantage viewing point. When he heard the telling cough from Gimli, his expression was that of a scowl when he realized that he was again staring at Anaire's face. Forcing himself to pay attention to the water, anywhere but her face, he furiously expended his energy into docking the boat on the river's side.  
  
As soon as they had all gotten out of the boats, Aragorn stated his plan of action, "We cross at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the North."  
  
"Oh?" Gimli retorted. "Just a simple matter of finding our way across Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks! And then it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands as far as the eye can see!"  
  
"That is our road, sir dwarf," Aragorn declared in a voice that was final. "Perhaps you should take some rest, and recover your strength."  
  
"Recover my...!" Gimli sputtered.  
  
Legolas was staring around, focusing on what was indiscernible as was Anaire. "We should leave now," he said softly. Anaire also nodded her head; she had sensed the same thing.  
  
"No," Aragorn responded firmly, "orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for the cover of darkness."  
  
"It is not the eastern shore that worries me," Legolas replied with an edge of worry. "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it."  
  
It is dark; it is looming.  
  
Meanwhile, Gimli was still preoccupied with the comment about recovering his strength. "Recover my strength! Pay no heed to that, young hobbits."  
  
~  
  
Haldir stood at the edge of the river, staring where Anaire had departed away from him. It had been unbearable to watch her leave him the first time, even knowing she'd return sometime soon to Lothlorien. This time, the second time to let her go was even harder because this time he did not know when she was coming back. Maybe she wasn't even going to return, that thought paralyzed him and sickened him.  
  
From behind the March Warden, Celeborn approached and laid his hand on Haldir's shoulder. "I know what you are thinking," Celeborn stated. "It is what troubles me as well, but she had to go. It is what she needed to do. It was her fate."  
  
Slowly the Head of the Guard nodded and replied, "I know, but even that does not make it easier. My fear is that she will not return, even if she does it will be for a time longer than I have ever been parted from her before."  
  
"Your fear is the same as Galadriel's," Celeborn remarked. "But I have faith in the strength of her soul. She will come back. She will. In her, there is a will to survive beyond what is survivable. She will survive; she will return. I know this."  
  
That Haldir knew was true. For he knew how tough she was from their practice sessions. She did not relent; she'd fight to the death. She pushed herself passed the realm of her endurance. That was the way she was. If he did not stop when he knew she had had enough, she'd push herself until she collapsed from exhaustion. So he was careful, he only hoped that those in the Fellowship knew to watch out for when she reached her limit.  
  
From where she stood behind Celeborn and Haldir, Galadriel had heard what they had discussed--- it touched her own thoughts in her own mind. For it was the same concerns she had for her Fanyarelisse. It reassured her the confidence that Celeborn had in Anaire, for it lessened her own fears for her adopted daughter. Yet even though the anxiety had lightened, it was not completely erased. She knew what waited Anaire, she knew.  
  
~  
  
"Where is Frodo?"  
  
She had followed Boromir because she had this awful sense of foreboding from him. Something was disturbed about the air. Something good was not to happen at this locale. So she trailed with careful caution behind him, her gift of foresight was minimal without the Mirror of Galadriel. She got the sense, a whiff of what was to come and reading his mind did not help--- he had no idea what was coming.  
  
Everything made sense when she caught sight of Frodo. The whirl of torturous emotions inside of Boromir were caused by his struggle against the One Ring. So she stayed back and watched the confrontation. If anything got out of hand, she was ready to do what she must to protect Frodo and the One Ring. but the tormenting anguish within Boromir gave her hope. Perhaps, he could overcome the weakness plaguing man. Here was his chance.  
  
"Why do you recoil?" Boromir questioned. "I am no thief."  
  
"You are not yourself!" Frodo exclaimed.  
  
There was an obvious strain in Boromir's expression, as light and as imperceptible as it was--- it was there. She saw what others did not see. She read what was in the mind, in the heart. "I ask only for the strength to defend my people! If you would but lend me the ring."  
  
"No!"  
  
"What chance do you think you have?" Boromir queried. "They will find you, they will take the ring, and you will beg for death before the end! It is not yours save by happenstance. It could have been mine. It should have been mine! Give it to me!"  
  
"No!"  
  
Flee Frodo, she whispered fervently just before he slipped the One Ring on and vanished from all visible sight.  
  
"I see your mind!" he shouted vindictively, his mind almost fully corrupted by the ring. She did not have to notch an arrow, Frodo was gone. He was safe, saved by the terrible One Ring. "I see your mind! You would take the ring to Sauron! You will betray us! You go to your death, and the death of us all! Curse you! Curse all you halflings!"  
  
It was then that he fell and the shadow over his mind faded. "Frodo? Frodo?" he cried out with his misery. "What have I done? Frodo, I'm sorry!"  
  
He had done no better than she had expected, but he had done no worse than what she had thought. Drawing an arrow from her quiver, she caught the horrid scent of some unknown foe. She was ready to do what she had to and she was certain in her heart that Frodo was seeking safety and his doomed destiny. There was no more she could do for him, but there was something she could do for Boromir. She knew how hard the darkness was to overcome, and though he had succumbed--- he had not fallen captive.  
  
In his distraught, he had run off and when she caught up to him, he was defending Merry and Pippin against the orcs and the Uruk-hai. Keeping a stationary position above on the trees where she'd be most useful, she cut through the rank enemy's ranks with her arrows that she launched with the speed and accuracy that would have made Haldir proud. When she reached back for another arrow and came up empty, she sighed and leapt down from the branches, drawing her twin blades.  
  
"Anaire!" Pippin and Merry exclaimed simultaneously with astonishment. They'd thought that the person shooting the arrows had been Legolas from a distance. Though they had thought it was strange that he hadn't come into view. It made sense now when they realized it was her. "Boromir!" they pointed, where their friend was fighting the foe furiously.  
  
Their double exclamations brought the attention of the Uruk-hai upon her, two immediately charging at her. This was the elf that had cut into their numbers. Revenge was the foremost thought on their minds. As she saw them bearing down on her, she slid one long knife back in and grabbed the dagger that Elladan had given her and threw it at one of the chargers. Her aim was true as it split the skull. One down, one more to go.  
  
She withdrew her long knife and quickly met his assault with all the strength of body and mind she possessed. Fighting these minions of the betrayer Saruman was easier on her mind than the Ulairi. These stinking creatures did not play with her mind, they had but the crudest thinking skills, destroy and destroy more. It was child's play to read their next moves, but countering it wasn't easy. They were a match, more than a match for her elvish strength.  
  
She was suddenly blinded by the realization that the end for her was coming too soon as she fought off one attack only to know another was coming. But it never came. When she finished off her attacker, she saw from out of the corner of her eyes that Boromir was guarding her back as she was fending his. It was with relief that she focused all her attentions and energies to the front as another assault by the filthy enemy began.  
  
~  
  
From afar, Legolas was letting arrows fly through the air as he caught sight of Aragorn, Gimli behind him. As the duo battled their way way to Aragorn's side, the first searing thought in the elf's mind was that Anaire was not there. "Where is she?" Legolas cried out with worry and anxiety as he let lost two arrows at the same time, slaughtering two of the orcs.  
  
To his side, Gimli ploughed his ax through the skull of one of the filthy beats, flinging the limp body in the mass of orcs approaching them, giving them valuable time to gather their wits. It was then that they heard a piercing and powerful sound travel through the air. "The horn of Gondor," Aragorn identified fiercely. "Maybe she is with Boromir."  
  
The first thought on Legolas's mind was what would Anaire be doing with that distrustful human? He couldn't help but dislike Boromir because he was the rival of Aragorn, the one in his mind that upheld the law of the elves and the valor of man, the true King. Yet, everywhere he and Gimli had searched so far had turned up with nothing. He only hoped that she was with Boromir because at least the human was a fit and worthy warrior.  
  
The same hope was Aragorn's mind since when he knew that Anaire was to join them; he knew that he had to protect her. She was Arwen's oselle, one of the most important people to her. With his life, he vowed to protect as he would Arwen--- his beloved Undomiel expected no less from him.  
  
~  
  
There is something that you wish to speak to me about," Arwen stated softly. "I know the look on your face, Ada. You cannot hid much of anything from me. We are too similar."  
  
Elrond nodded. He knew that. "That is true my beloved daughter, I have talked with your grandmother and she has related to me that the Fellowship has arrived and departed from Lorien, that your Estel was safe when she last saw him. Mithrandir is lost though."  
  
"A tragedy," she commented, her eyes filled with sorrow, "but that is not all on your mind, Ada. There is more still."  
  
"Yes," he confirmed, "there is more. Your oselle has joined the Fellowship." They both knew that that path was filled with certain death. "She left with them two days hence."  
  
The news was paralyzing. She now had two of the most important people in her life in the Fellowship, on that doomed destiny--- her love, Estel, and her sister, Anaire. Yet, she trusted no one more than the both of them. "He will protect her with his life," she said with absolute certainty. "And Anaire is strong."  
  
"Foremost," Elrond stated resolutely, "he must guard the One Ring. If that falls into the hands of the enemy, nothing will protect her, not even all the free folk on Middle Earth uniting."  
  
~  
  
The trio flew to the direction were Boromir's horn was sounding from, Legolas at the front. His hope was leading him because for some undeniable reason, he had the need to protect her. His heart stopped dead when he saw her lifting her sword valiantly to stop the Uruk-hai, only to have it wrenched from her grasp. Swiftly, he reached back for an arrow and came up empty. Damn.  
  
He withdrew his dagger instead, throwing it with deadly accuracy that sliced the hand that was about to hit the defenseless Anaire. That gave her the precious time she needed to dodge out of the way and grab her sword, using it to block the blade of the enemy. The last few minutes had been a desperate battle as she had watched Boromir fall with two arrows in him. He had been so strong, no weakness of heart resided in him.  
  
So she had protected him on this battlefield that was sure to be his deathbed. Her arms cried out in agony as she pushed herself to her last reserves. She had failed to stop Merry and Pippin from being taken by the foe. She had been certain death was coming for her when she had seen the silver dagger of Greenleaf cut through the air. It was as she was blocking the blow that Legolas attacked the Uruk-hai from behind.  
  
Drawing attention to himself and away from her, he bravely battled the Uruk- hai, while Aragorn and Gimli fought off the rest of the orcs. She did not pay heed to the battle of desperation. She did not see Aragorn finally beheading the Uruk-hai with Legolas's aid in keeping the enemy distracted. No, she fell to her knees beside Boromir and placed her hands on his wounds.  
  
He was dying. There was nothing she could do. She had not the ability to heal him. Her gift was not in that art, that was Arwen's. But the least she could do was give him tranquility and reassurance. I saw, she told him. I saw your struggle, Boromir of Gondor. You did not succeed, but neither did you fail. Above all men raised by men, you have shown courage this day.  
  
With the intensity of the life that was about to leave, he gazed beyond her to Aragorn, who was standing behind her. He haltingly told him of how he tried to take the One Ring from Frodo, trying to explain how he had failed. But Aragorn, being Estel, told him that all was well and that he had kept his faith. When Aragorn pull out an arrow, Boromir said, "Leave it. It's over. The world of men will fail. All will fall into darkness, and my city to ruin."  
  
"I know not what strength lies in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail," Aragorn vowed.  
  
"Our people. Our people." Taking the sword that Aragorn placed into his hand, Boromir brought it to his chest. "I would have followed you, my brother, my captain, my King."  
  
Be at peace, Boromir, son of Denethor, you did not mean to do what you did. Your King has forgiven you. You are a good man. Do not fear what is to come. Clear your conscience. It was the One Ring, not you.  
  
He glanced away from Aragorn toward her. "You are not like the others, you are beyond the others." After he said those words, his eyes closed and his spirit fled his body to where the souls of good men went for he was a noble man. But as she glanced from out of the corner of her eye, her ARwen's Estel was meant to be beyond good, he had to be great.  
  
Yet despite that he'd grown up in the elven tradition, she saw he had not forgotten his human heritage. It was never so plain as when he pushed the funeral pyre of Boromir out to the river where it'd flow wherever the river led. As his body floated away, she sang a haunting lament for him that bespoke of his struggle against the One Ring, how despite it all, he had not failed the Fellowship.  
  
"Hurry!" Legolas exclaimed, seeing the hobbits across the river trying to land. "Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore!" Aragorn merely glanced to another direction. "You mean not to follow them."  
  
"Frodo's fate no longer rests in our hands."  
  
"Then it was all in vain," Gimli remarked. "The Fellowship has failed."  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Not as long as we remain true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left. Leave all that can be spared behind, we travel light. Let us hunt some orc."  
  
With Aragorn leading them, they fly through the rough terrain. Legolas naturally took his place next to Anaire's side, while Gimli made up the rear. As they traveled together she could not help but feel his tumultuous thoughts, his inquiring question about her lament for Boromir. It was because he did not trust man, yet she did. Do you not trust Aragorn? The disbelieving look he gave her was his answer. We must believe in the inherent goodness of men because that is where the hope of Middle Earth lies.  
  
For many miles they journeyed, she ran by Legolas's side before dropping her pace so that she matched Gimli's. Always at the front was Aragorn, pushing them on a blistering pace that even Legolas was feeling the burn. If she felt this worn, she only wondered how Gimli was doing. She knew dwarves were not made for the long going. She was worried about the dwarf, anxious whether he was doing well or not. She had felt the weariness in his mind and had seen the fatigue in his stride. Master dwarf, are you okay?  
  
"A dwarf is always okay!" he exclaimed between puffs. With eyes filled with concern, he noted how her pace faltered every ten steps, stumbling so that she had to catch herself. Perhaps, she was even more tired out than he. If that was the case, it was best if she was by him so that he could help her in case she fell. "If you do not mind, stay by my side and we will brave this road together."  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: As always, reviews are wonderful gifts ^-^. So don't forget to review! *sighs* this would have been out earlier, but I had to take my mom to the hospital. We both kind of panicked when we couldn't get the blood to stop gushing from her cut O-o. It was kind of hilarious looking back but we were both kind of antsy. And I said 1 of the 2 things are definitely going to happen, the other is not certain 'cuz *coughs* I haven't made up my mind yet. Woohoo! Keep telling me which you prefer, YOU the REVIEWER can sway my mind ^_____^. 


	10. Arc 2: Honorable Course of Action

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
I ADORE all my REVIEWERS. *hugs* Thanks you guys!  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! The awesome author of Sarlisse! (which I beta!)  
  
~  
  
10: Honorable Course of Action (February 26, 2003 to March 3, 2003)  
  
They had found the emblem of Lothlorien, they had followed the trail of the two hobbits in the rolling hills of the Rohirrim. They had reached a dead end, the trail had vanished. To the distance Anaire and Legolas glanced for they heard and saw the riders on horseback that were afar. It took Aragorn longer, but when his eyes saw them, he called out to them in friendly greeting, "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"  
  
The group on horseback reined their mounts in the direction of the call, immediately gathering around them. When the riders had started to approach, Anaire had drawn back and covered herself with her hood. Indeed, it was an instinctive action for her when strangers were concerned. Gimli felt led to lay a comforting hand on her arm to reassure her. Ever since the boat ride and the fact she'd kept him company during part of the cross- country run, they'd bonded as trusted friends. What was even stranger was Legolas's and Gimli's strong friendship. For like other elves, Anaire was not.  
  
As soon as the Rohirrim surrounded them, they pointed their spears in their direction, ready at a moment's hesitation if any in the group should turn belligerent. There was no question who the leader was as Eomer shouted out his inquiry, "What business does a man, a dwarf, and elves have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"  
  
"Give me your name, Horsemaster, and I shall give you mine!" Gimli exclaimed.  
  
It was the wrong thing to say, for Eomer handed his staff to another rider and leapt from his horse. Before Gimli could do anything more foolish, Aragorn laid a hand on Gimli's shoulder to calm his excited nerves. Taking his sword out of his sheath, he cut the air above Gimli's head in warning, "I would have cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."  
  
Anaire was the first to spring to Gimli's defense, a second before Legolas. "You would die before your stroke fell!" Legolas threatened. With two bows pointed at Eomer, there was no doubt that the elf's words were true. But they would not live through it either since the Rohirrim had immediately drawn their spears closer to the threat against their leader. Indeed, the blade of Eomer was pointed sharply against Anaire's vulnerable throat for she seemed the most dangerous as she was cloaked and hidden. "Show yourself elf!"  
  
The cover has reason, she declared in a soft voice. Everything does.  
  
"What madness is this?" Eomer cried out as he heard a strange voice in his head. "Are you a witch?" At first he had thought her to be a male elf, but her voice was undoubtedly feminine and alluring.  
  
No madness, she responded as she pulled her hood back. As she did so, she lowered her bow and stepped forward toward him, unmindful of the edge that rested against her delicate throat. Now you have beheld me, will you not lower your weapons?  
  
Eomer's eyes were enchanted by the vision of loveliness before him. All elven maidens were beautiful when compared to their human counterparts, but Anaire was unusual in her beauty. It was strange to be considered pleasing to the eye when she had a scar that marred her face, thought he did not feel that it detracted from her exquisiteness. Her scar--- from battle, no doubt--- he thought, only made her more pleasant to his eyes. Her silver tresses were touched by starlight and her intense grey eyes were filled with understanding of--- of him. He subconsciously gestured to his men to lower their weapons, while she told Gimli and Legolas to do the same.  
  
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn declared when all weapons were lowered. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin and Legolas of the Woodland realm. And the one standing before you is Anaire of Lothlorien. We are friends of Rohan and of Theoden, your king."  
  
"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," Eomer responded, pulling his helmet from off his fair head. "Not even his own kin." His gaze shifted from Anaire to Aragorn. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claims lordship over his lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets."  
  
Withdrawing back into the safety between Legolas and Gimli, she pulled the hood over her head again. To have so many men staring at her was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. When she was critically studied by anyone, she felt disturbed and it only made her feel more so now. She felt relief that Aragorn had taken over the conversation and she could retreat back to doing what she did best, observing from the sidelines and picking up blatant emotions that she could not help but read from the mere expressions on their faces.  
  
"We are not spies," Aragorn replied. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken two of our friends captive."  
  
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."  
  
Gimli was distraught. "But there were two hobbits? Did you see two hobbits with them?"  
  
"They would be small," Aragorn confirmed, "only children to your eyes."  
  
"We left none alive," Eomer stated seriously. "We piled the carcasses and burned them." Lifting his arm to point to the distance, the remaining Fellowship saw the smoking pile far in the distance. His words were truth, his words were devastating.  
  
It was the dwarf that was the most distraught of them all. The grief on Gimli's face was the most telling. "Dead?" he whispered in a hoarse, disbelieving voice. He simply did not want to trust in Eomer's plainly visible words. It was staring him in the eye, it was there right before his very eyes. There was no denying it, but he wanted to--- oh he wanted to!  
  
Sadly, Eomer nodded his head. "I'm sorry." It was Anaire that took Gimli's hand into her own, something unusual for her to do. But with Gimli, it seemed that she broke all the rules that she was accustomed to having. As it was, Legolas laid a hand on Gimli's shoulder to reassure him. "Hasufel! Arod!" Two stout horses trotted up to them. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters." It was then that his eyes shifted back to Anaire's covered face. "I wish that we had a gentler horse to give for you to ride, my Lady."  
  
It is okay, she responded back in kind for he seemed to expect an answer from her. I cannot ride. But thank you for your kindness, my Lord. With that, she bowed her face down to show her respect to him for his benevolence and for his rank, even if he was not recognized by his King Uncle.  
  
"Fare thee well, Lady Anaire," he murmured softly. "Farewell to all of you. Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope, it has forsaken these lands." Signaling his hands to his riders, he shouted his command, "We ride north!"  
  
As he was riding away, he glanced back once because in his mind he felt her voice, There is always hope. You must believe. If hope has forsaken us, then all is lost. Hope must be kept, Lord Eomer. May it be with you.  
  
They watched the riders of Rohan ride off into the distance before turning their attention to the two horses that they had been given. Both were still spirited despite the hard journey they had been through, more than capable of carrying double riders at a good pace. The four glanced at each other, the question remained who was to ride with whom. None of the three males were going to decide, it was up to her. She knew better than to choose Gimli, he'd not provide the support she needed for the swift speed they needed to travel.  
  
She knew that Legolas expected her to choose him. Then again, Aragorn was her brother by her sworn kinship to Arwen and soon to be her brother by marriage. In those ties, he was the logical choice. Indeed, he was the option that every sensible elven maiden would select if they had the situation she was in. The problem was, she was not rational. All she did was move to stand by Legolas's side where he held the reins of one of the horses. It went without say who she chose.  
  
His breathe drew in when he realized she had decided upon him. He did not know why he was surprised; in his mind, he had expected it to be him. But that did not stop his heart from beating a pulse faster, a speed that only increased as more time went by. Placing his hands gently on her waist, he helped her up onto the stallion before sliding up behind her. There was nowhere his arms could go but around her as he grasped onto the reins to guide the horse, their bodies were up close to each other--- touching everywhere.  
  
The friction, the very tension was stimulating. He was so caught up into his thoughts that it took a loud cough from Gimli to jolt him from his thoughts, his reflections. It was then that he realized that he had entirely missed the curious happenstance of Gimli mounting up behind Aragorn on the other horse. The reason Gimli had coughed was to let Legolas know that they were ready to go, that they were waiting for him.  
  
He was annoyed with himself. This was not a time to get distracted. Indeed, it was a very dangerous time to be not fully concentrated on their surroundings. Any peril, any threat could happen at any time. There was no safety, no security anymore. Drawing in air to clear his head, he squeezed his heels into his mount's side to urge it to a full-blown gallop. Time was running out. Besides, Aragorn and Gimli had made fast progress ahead of them. They needed to catch up.  
  
~  
  
They had caught the trail again. It was Aragorn who saw that the hobbits had not yet passed away. He saw that the hobbits had laid in the wake of the enemy had with bound hands had found a way to unbind them. When their bonds were cut, they ran and were followed by the same foe. In their escape, they fled into Fangorn forest. There was no other way other than for the four of them to follow them into the forest on foot for the horses were wiser than they. They would not step into the madness like their new masters were about to.  
  
"This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory... and anger," Legolas reflected. The moaning of the trees reverberated throughout the forest causing Gimli to raise his axe at the unseen menace. "The trees are speaking to each other."  
  
Of the group, Anaire was the most comfortable in this dark and forbidding place. To her, it did not feel strange nor awful. Indeed, it felt almost like home. But what home was this? This place of trees, of wildness. No, this was not home, but the feeling was the same as her home. But where was her home? She was distracted from her thoughts when she heard Aragorn whispered vehemently, "Gimli!"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
She saw him gesture to Gimli to lower his weapon. "Lower your axe."  
  
"Oh." The dwarf slowly let his axe fall from its threatening position.  
  
She felt the aura of distress around Gimli, thus she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It is okay, she said soothingly. This place is haunted but it wishes no ill on those who given no ill. Do not fear. It recognizes friend from foe.  
  
"Aragorn, nad na ennas!" Legolas exclaimed, his eyes narrowing as he focused his ears on the slightly rustle of movement had heard that wasn't theirs. (Something is out there.)  
  
"Man cenich?" Aragorn queried. (What do you see?)  
  
There was a silence that followed, eerie and unforgiving. "The White Wizard approaches."  
  
She was the only one that did not grab a weapon in preparation. She stood calmly until she was grabbed by Legolas and jerked by him until she was protectively behind him. She did not have to focus to know who it was. The power emanated from the one who approached was undeniably a being not who they thought it was. It had been a long while since she had true contact with Mithrandir. Their had been little communication since her stay with Elrond to study of healing, an art she had still yet to master. True, they had seen each other at the Council of Elrond, but converse--- no.  
  
When Gimli's axe, Legolas's bow, and Aragorn's sword were deflected by his magic, she rushed up to him before Legolas could stop her and fell to her knees before him. It was impossible for him to be here. He had fallen. She had seen it. The Mirror of Galadriel's told no lies of what had come to be. So how was he here? She was not the only one to be filled with astonishment. She felt his shock at her presence. She would not have gone unless her amme had given her leave, like Galadriel had done.  
  
"Who are you? Show yourself!" Aragorn exclaimed as he quickly rushed up to Anaire's side, anxious to protect her with his life if need be.  
  
It is you, she said with a revered voice, Mithrandir. She lifted her eyes up at him, her deep and seraching grey eyes. I saw you fall through amme's Mirror. Yet you stand here in greater power than what you had. You are the White Wizard, not Saruman. No, he was never truly White. You were. Cirdan saw that.  
  
It never failed to amaze Gandalf at Anaire's awe-aspiring ability to read minds. True, Galadriel was effective at it, but she had the power of Nenya to help her. Even Elrond with the most overwhelming Elven rings, Vilya, did not have the ability to read as well as she, indeed the Lord of Rivendell did not rival Galadriel in that gift. When he had first seen Anaire, he had seen her in silverlight with a dimness of spirit, still lost in what her fate was to be. That dimness was gone, replaced by a glowing knowledge of her path, her way. She had found her destiny.  
  
"She is right," he remarked. "It is I." As the white light faded, his features and not that of Saruman's appeared. He knew what they were thinking, much as Anaire knew. Beginning from the beginning, he related his struggle with the balrog and his eventual triumph. "I did not fall. I have been sent back until my task is completed. There is much for me to do."  
  
"Gandalf!" Aragorn called.  
  
"Gandalf?" Gandalf remarked. "Yes... that is what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."  
  
"Gandalf!" this exclamation was by Gimli.  
  
His eyes were shining but they rested on Anaire's. "I am Gandalf the White." His smile was for her more than the rest. "And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide, much as you, Istelile. Are you to be our shining star?"  
  
This is my path but I do not know yet what role I am to play, she answered reservedly. If I am to play a part at all, I do not know.  
  
"You are here for a reason," Gandalf said resolutely, "like the rest of us you have a purpose that is to be done. Anaire," he peered into her eyes as intensely as she did into his, "you have faith in others, do you not have faith in yourself?"  
  
She had let herself be vulnerable. He had picked up on her hesitant thoughts. Before he might be tempted to dip further for her own good, she put up a shield on her thoughts a shield she had let off her guard for quite some time. It was the same shield she had used unconsciously to protect her through the agonies she had suffered through. That was how she had survived. She was fuller than she had been for the longest time, but still she was not yet whole. There was still something missing in her.  
  
~  
  
Another Elven Council had been called. This time it was to be in Lorien. It was true that the elves had decided to stay, to help. There was still the underlying question of how much aid they were going to give. They had done their part; they had set the Fellowship into action to destroy the One Ring. It was in their wisdom that that course was taken. Had they not done enough?  
  
That was the question that needed to be answered. So representatives from Mithlond, Imladris, and Mirkwood had gathered in the citadel of the Golden Lady, in Lothlorien. It was here that they were going to decide what additional role they were going to play. Only Cirdan of the Grey Havens had not come, in his stead he had sent his representative that had appeared at the Council of Elrond, Galdor. Elrond and Arwen were here to give counsel from Rivendell as was Thranduil from Mirkwood since his son could not longer go in his place. But it was Celeborn and Galadriel that presided over the Assembly.  
  
"You have all glimpse into the Mirror that shows what is to come," Galadriel stated in a soft, almost menacing whisper. "It is death and destruction that we have the choice to join in, in another gathering of elves and men. The Last Alliance failed, this one could be no different. But already elves have joined to help this fading realm, Legolas of Mirkwood and Anaire of Lorien. The answer we must decide is will all the elves join in the fight that is not ours? Will we once again march?"  
  
"Did we not decide this already?" Arwen questioned. "Many years ago, more than a hundred seasons, we decided that the elves would stay and would see this course of history through. If we do not give all that we have to give, was the staying worth it? Is it in elves to be weak of heart?"  
  
Elrond placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder, trying to placate her passionate response. "What my Arwen speaks of is true, we made this decision long ago. But her judgment is clouded by her love for a mortal man, Aragorn, the son of Kings of Men. Yet, still her words are what they are, truth. Our choice then was to stay, it is not a duty to protect Middle Earth--- it is no longer ours, but it is the honorable course to take."  
  
"But still," Galdor spoke up, speaking the underlying sentiments in all elves, "to shed elven blood for the treachery of men is not to be taken lightly. Still, there are elves that harbor none too kind of feelings for the failing of men's strength in the War of the Last Alliance. As you said, Lord Elrond, it is not our duty to protect Middle Earth. Our days are ending. Why do we seek to sacrifice for nothing?"  
  
"It is true," Celeborn responded gravely, "that if we choose to help the lesser children of Illuvatar that there is nothing for us to gain. Yet, as Elrond has spoken so nobly, it is the praiseworthy action to take. While we have none to gain, there is still what others may gain. Do we really wish darkness and evil upon all that is good when we have the chance to prevent it?"  
  
"You all talk as if you are leaving for the Undying Lands," remarked Thranduil dynamically. "But not all elves wish to see Valinor. My wood elves and I have defended our lands against the orcs and minions of Sauron for many years, keeping the rest of your borders safe. There are elves that do not think that even if the days of elves come to an end that we must forsake this world that we know as our own. I do not know what course your elves will take, but as for me... not because my son and heir is in the Fellowship... I will gather a Mirkwood army and we will march on Mordor."  
  
Before any of the others might speak, Galadriel's voice rose up in a soaring declaration, "The King of Mirkwood speaks truth. There are elves that are not ready to abandon Middle Earth for Valinor. There are elves that still call Middle Earth their home. There are elves that have yet to hear the call of the Seas. It is strong amongst our people, but there is a right time still. Mirkwood stands with Middle Earth, what say Imladris, Mithlond, and Lothlorien? Do we stand by our cousins or do we let them be covered by darkness?"  
  
"Rivendell will march," Elrond stated serenely, "by the side of the rightful King."  
  
It was not only her decision to make, her wise blue eyes settled upon that of her husband, Celeborn's. "Two of the three strongholds have joined," he commented. "The tip of the scale is balanced in the favor of the human race, but additional aid has never hindered any. Lothlorien will come to the aid of men. The elves will stand against Sauron once more."  
  
"Grey Havens is only a port," Galdor said. "Unlike Lothlorien, Rivendell, and Mirkwood we do not have the strength to join in the Last March of the Elves. But we will be ready with ships to carry what remains to the Undying Lands once this battle is fought and the spirit of the elves have dwindled. We will protect you in retreat in the case of defeat. We will bid you farewell in celebration once the time is right to depart if there is victory. We will stand together to the end, whatever end it may be."  
  
There is hope that there will be no end, Galadriel spoke into the mind of all with her hypnotizing voice. That once this Third Age ends, a Fourth will begin and in that beginning the elves will leave--- for our days have ended, but the Fourth will be the start of the days of Men. That is why we elves will march this one last time, for the days of men to begin where ours have ended. That there will be no end, only another beginning.  
  
~  
  
They had arrived at the Golden Halls. They had seen the hold that Saruman had had on the ailing King. It was Gandalf that had with his wily skills challenged the grasp of Saruman on Theoden. It was with a seesawing battle of wills that Mithrandir had triumphed with his light and banished the darkness of Saruman from whence it came. Once Saruman had been purged from Theoden, the shadows that had haunted and decayed his aged body had released the energy and power still in him. Even though not in his youth, Theoden was still the King of Rohan.  
  
Yet, it was hard on any father to bury their child. She understood his pain. It was same her father had felt, felt when he had thought her lost. So she had been lost, her forehead had wrinkled with thought, thought that disappeared when she saw the tears that trickled down Theoden's face. It was not time to think on the past; there was only time to think on the present. Have hope, she whispered softly to him. The end has yet to come. There is hope yet in strength. Do not think of the past, you cannot change it. Only the future, you can. ~  
  
Author's Note: I still don't know which way I'm going to go O-o. I'm so entirely torn. I'm going to have to talk to my beta reader. There's one way I really want to go, but I don't think you'd guys like it very much. Anyways without much ado, always wanted to ask this... which character do you like the most that I've written about? The obvious choices are Anaire, Haldir, or Legolas, unless they aren't which would strange as they're the main ones. Besides the 3 main, which other character is your favorite? Tell me the main favorite and a supporting character favorite! Thanks! Reviews make me smile ^_^. 


	11. Arc 2: Flight to Safe Havens

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
PLEASE review, PRETTY PLEASE?  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! The awesome author of Sarlisse! (which I beta!)  
  
~  
  
Question that I want answered: Is this a typical Mary-Sue? Is it a Mary- Sue?  
  
~  
  
11: Flight to Safe Havens (March 3, 2003 to March 6, 2003)  
  
"Helm's Deep!" Gimli shouted with disbelief. "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their King?"  
  
The expression on Aragorn's face was thoughtful and grave. "He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."  
  
Together with Legolas, they entered into the stables where Gandalf was about to make his departure in search to seek what help there was to render. "There is no way out of that ravine," he remarked. "Theoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Theoden has a strong will but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."  
  
Aragorn met Mithrandir's steady eyes with his own strong solemnity. "They will hold. That I give my word on by my last breath."  
  
Easing onto Shadowfax's back and stroking his neck, Gandalf reminisced, "The Grey Pilgrim... that's what they use to call me. Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth and now I have no time. Good luck. My search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at the light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East."  
  
Aragorn opened the stall gates for Shadowfax to gallop through. "Go."  
  
~  
  
Anaire did not have to be there to see Mithrandir off to know that he had left. She felt the strength of light in him fade as he left on Shadowfax in his hopes to find help. It was with somber eyes that she turned and watched Eowyn practice with her blade. She had not yet spoken to the Lady of Rohan, but from all that she had observed this woman bore watching. She sensed without a doubt that Eowyn had a purpose even greater than her own. You are far more skilled than I with a blade.  
  
That stopped Eowyn from carving her sword into the calm air. "Women of this country learned long ago that those without swords may still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain."  
  
You have known death, Anaire stated. It is true there is no fear of that in you. Elves I have spoken into in this manner have felt a tingle of fright for the fashion in which I communicate. You, unlike your brother are not stunned though you share in the same trait of courage. Why is that?  
  
"In you," Eowyn remarked, "I sense a spirit that is the same as mine. You are here with those that fight against the hopeless. In your silence, you gain knowledge yet you are not always without words. I am not blind, elf maiden. I had guessed you spoke in some way to my King uncle."  
  
No, Anaire agreed with a tinge of amusement, you are not blind, Eowyn of Rohan. But there is a fear in all of us. No one is fearless. I confess that to lose those that are dear to me is my fear, that and not fulfilling my fate. What is yours?  
  
"A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire." Eowyn paused. "In a way, it is the same as yours and not realizing your destiny."  
  
I do not think that will happen to you, Anaire murmured. I think, Shieldmaiden of Rohan, that your desire for valor will occur in the greatest manner. What runs in your veins are the blood of Kings, you are a daughter of Kings, your wish will be granted. My gift of foresight is limited, but my intuition is never wrong. Your honor will surpass all those of the Rohirrim. Of that there is no question.  
  
The two of them stared at each other for a long period of time before Eowyn tossed one of the spare swords at Anaire. If they were no longer going to speak to one another, they might as well practice for the danger that was looming. In truth, Anaire needed the lesson for Eowyn taught her the best method for the fairer sex to best wield the sword to its fullest extent. No, it still was not going to be her weapon of choice, but at least with Eowyn's guidance she did not feel like it encumbered her any longer.  
  
Neither were the two going to be sworn sisters like Anaire was with Arwen. No, at most they would be friends, companions against the enemy. In Eowyn, her passion overpowered the rationale in her. In Anaire, her tranquility ruled over the foolishness. Eowyn acted in ardor; Anaire reacted in reason. They were opposites, but their cause united them. Also, Eowyn was not incorrect in her declaration that the spirit of Anaire was the same as hers. Indeed, it was quite similar, only that Anaire's had been grounded and suffocated by the fact she still was not whole. Yet, Eowyn and Anaire were binded by their aspirations to carry out their fateful fate.  
  
~  
  
Edoras had been evacuated. Leaving the sanctuary of their city, the refugee Rohirrim were enormously vulnerable to attack. But it was what their King had sanctioned was the path they were to take and the people of Rohan were hardy people. They had not lived through all the hard times to given up now. No, they were going to survive and persevere through it all. They were a strong people in agreeance with their King Theoden, they knew that the thick walls of Helm's Deep was their last chance.  
  
As before, Anaire was riding within the arms of Legolas. It was the same feeling as before for him. Tantalizing and intoxicating. He had to keep reminding himself to focus his attentions on anything but her. He had not much luck. But neither was he about to let her ride with anyone else. He'd sworn to protect her and he was not about to shrink at his duty. This time was a little easier, there was more to concentrate on besides her. That and he knew that their entourage was bound to be attacked sooner or later.  
  
His arms did not feel like Elrohir's or Celeborn's, was Anaire's thoughts when she reflected on Legolas's tight hold on her waist. He kept one hand to guide their horse, but the other was wrapped gently around her. No doubt to keep her from falling off to the ground like Gimli, who had taken a tumbled when Eowyn had lost her hold on the reins. And the feel was not quite like Haldir's either, though she did recognize their was a similarity.  
  
Her thoughts on Legolas was put on hold when she noticed Eowyn ride up close to Aragorn and stare directly at the jewel that rested on the hollow of his throat. She was not alarmed, but she was worried. But she knew if there was any mortal man to trust, it was Aragorn--- he was Estel, he was the one that there must be faith in for there to be faith in a new beginning at the end of this terror. And yet, the interest and desire in Eowyn's heart must be trying to him--- he was so far from his beloved Undomiel.  
  
"Where is she?" Eowyn asked. "The woman who gave you that jewel."  
  
He smiled and said nothing, the only action he did was to push his mount to ride on ahead. There was nothing Eowyn could do without appearing too obvious if she followed after him. So she relaxed her seat and let her mare amble on a controlled pace, eventually matching strides with Legolas's stallion. When Eowyn glanced up, the reflection of the dim sunlight caught on the replica pendant at Anaire's throat.  
  
She did not even have to ask, Anaire answered before she spoke her inquiry, He did not answer what was shouting in his heart. The pendant, she remarked as she rested her hand on the star, was given to him and to me by Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of Rivendell. I do not have to warn you, but I will tell you that his heart is taken by my oselle, my sworn sister. They are bound not by bond of word, but by the bond of kindred hearts.  
  
Whatever Eowyn was about to say was cut off by Legolas's exclamation, "A scout!"  
  
At the top of the hill, wargs and orcs were seen as they began to charge down the hill. In desperation, Theoden turned to Eowyn and said with a plea and a passion, "You must lead the people to Helm's Deep. And make haste!"  
  
"I can fight!" Eowyn declared fervently, the ardor shining in her eyes. This was her moment, she thought. This was where she could prove her worth, her mettle.  
  
"No!" Theoden shouted. "You must do this... for me."  
  
Go, Anaire added her voice to Theoden's commanding request, this is not your fight your fate is deemed worthy of. It is but a momentary obstacle that hinders your way. There are more important things, Shieldmaiden Eowyn.  
  
Without a further word, Eowyn nodded and began to gesture to her people. "Make for the lower ground! Stick together!" she raised her voice up in worry and concern. There was only so much she could do to make sure they were safe. She only hoped that it was enough.  
  
"You should go with her," Legolas commented as he began to slide off the stallion. "It is not safe here."  
  
It is not safe anywhere, she responded in kind, her eyes glowing with a light amusement as she leapt off the horse to land by his side. Would I not be safer at your side?  
  
His reply was cut off by Theoden's command to: "CHARGE!!!" But his look said enough, his gaze told her that she'd had better stay close to his side where he'd be able to watch her and to make sure that she was safe.  
  
After the Nazgul, wargs and orcs were undeniably easier on her. Picking a position a distance away where she could lookout for the enemy, she took aim at the enemy and dispatched them easily with her accurate arrows. It was her bow that saved Gimli from being surprised from behind. It was her bow that protected Legolas's back. It was her bow that evened the odds against them.  
  
But as before, she ran out of arrows and had to resort to her sword because her long knives were of no consequence to the wargs. If it were just orcs, her long knives would have been sufficient but they barely nicked the great hulking beasts. As one of the filthy animals charged at her, she slid to her knees and let it use its momentum to impale her blade into its thick skull. It was as she was withdrawing her sword that she saw Aragorn being knocked off his horse.  
  
Her eyes quickly sought out any danger nearby, and she cursed her fate that she had not an arrow to shoot at the orc that was coming behind him. There was nothing she could do but warn him. Estel! she cried out. Behind you!  
  
He heard her, he met Sharku with his ever ready blade. But being attacked simultaneously by the warg, he was pushed back, closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. Her heart was racing as she thought of how Arwen would feel to lose her beloved. That was not going to happen, not if she had a say to it. It'd taken time to jerk her blade from the warg's bleeding brains, but as soon as she had she made haste speed to Aragorn's aid.  
  
Blind to everything else, she was cautioned against being unaware when Legolas's swift arrow stopped an orc that had been about to cut her down. If he had been able to help Aragorn, he would, but the fight was too close and even with his deadly accuracy, he could not take a shot. It was with relief he saw Anaire using surprise on her side, deal a deadly blow to Sharku while Aragorn finished off the warg.  
  
She was safe. They all were safe. It was only at that realization that she was finally able to glance all around her and notice how much they had destroyed, yet how much had been taken from their numbers. Many of the brave Rohirrim warriors had been lost in this hindering battle. Unquestionably, that was the aim of Saruman. He'd sent out his spies and his scouts to weaken Rohan. He'd succeeded.  
  
Falling to her knees, she glanced around at all the death and the decay. Flashing before her eyes, she remembered having been terrified at being lost in the woods, in the shadows of the night. That was why Fangorn had seemed vaguely familiar. Her home was deep in the forests, and her favorite time was night. That time had always been dear to her until her mother had been brutally abused and tortured to death by orcs. Her eyes filled with tears, it was after that--- that darkness had terrified her. It was several years after her mother's death that she had lost her father because of her own foolishness.  
  
~  
  
He was worried sick about her. Ever since collapsing to her knees, she had not spoken nor reacted to anything anyone said or did to her. Not even Gimli was able to reach her. As much as he hated to admit it, she and Gimli shared this affable jollity that brought out the closest thing to a smile to her. He did not know why she had suddenly withdrawn into herself. All that he knew it had something to do with what had occurred.  
  
Even Estel had given up trying to coax her into speaking. Legolas was at a loss of what to do to break her from the shadow that was holding her, squeezing her into lifelessness. None of the three males knew what to do, all they could do was stare at her and hope that she'd somehow tear herself from the gloom that had caught her. They were not the only ones watching Anaire; Eowyn was too. Finally, when she could no stand to watch, she went up to Anaire and took her by the shoulders forcibly, shaking her with all her strength.  
  
Aragorn was perplexed; Gimli was shocked; Legolas was alarmed. He was the first one that leapt to his feet and would have stopped her if not for Aragorn holding him back. "Wake up!" Eowyn yelled at her. "This is not the time to wallow in past memories!" Anaire's eyes shifted to meet Eowyn's, the endless sorrow was chilling. "I know of what you think of," Eowyn murmured in a far softer voice as she dropped to her knees. "You lost someone important like I."  
  
Anaire pulled away from Eowyn's hold and stood up, purposely making a wide arc around her before walking over to stand in front of Legolas. Since Celeborn was not there, since Haldir was not near--- he was her best option. In his arms, it felt like Haldir's though not quite. Yet, it still offered some solace. If Legolas had not been quick enough to react, she would have collapsed onto the floor. But he was swift and caught her in his arms.  
  
Take me some place quiet, she requested in a dull, spiritless tone. There are memories of the past that I have recovered. That was all that she told him as she wrapped her weak arms around his neck and buried her face into his chest. She sought warmth and comfort, all that he had to give for her to receive. For her soul felt cold and burdened by the recall.  
  
He did what she asked and took her to a quiet part of the fortress, standing on the lower grounds of Helm's Deep, near the culvert. Lowering his body to the ground, he rested down with her on his lap and in his embrace. He let his thoughts fly to happier times while she drowned in her misery. He knew better than to ask her of what she thought of, if she wished to tell him--- she would.  
  
Anaire's eyes were clouded by a black cloud the festered into her soul. She could not think of anything but of her intense fear as she had wandered in the deep woods near her home, lost and cold. Before her mother's brutal murder, she had no been afraid of the dark--- indeed she had much enjoyed herself in the darkness, strange for any of elven kind. But the years following her mother's death she had shunned the night, since the time was night when her mother was assaulted by orcs.  
  
What else she knew was that her father had searched for her like she was his last link, his last hold to life. If he had not found her, he would have faded. She wished he had faded instead of being tortured before her eyes. It was more than she could bear, indeed following his death--- she had faded, faded away. From the briefness of her memories, she knew that she had been an astonishingly happy, unusual child. Always smiling like she no longer did now. And her name... what was her name?  
  
Intensely grief-ridden, still she was magnificent to his eyes. She was not the most beautiful of elves, perhaps not even close to many elvish eyes. But there was something incredibly alluring about her steel grey eyes as she glanced at him with her captivating orbs. "I will not ask what you think of," he began in a muted voice, "but it gladdens my heart to see that the shadows that have shadowed you have lifted some."  
  
The silver eyes that gazed into his had cleared up, the fog in them that fazed her vision vanished as the mist did when a light strong enough shown through it. Let me go, she commanded and he did. He kept near her in case she needed help to walk; he still sensed a weakness in her of mind as well as of body. I forgot myself to the past when what is needed to be thought of is the present. She gave him a glimmer of a smile, knowing that he needed reassurance. I will not forget again.  
  
~  
  
"I know he will return," Gamling told his King in a firmly resolute voice filled with confidence in Eomer's noble and honorable heart. "Once he has learned that Grima's foul presence has been purged from his land, Eomer will come to your aid, my Lord. He will reach Helm's Deep as soon as the word reaches him. Do not fear, my Lord, your army will be strong and this fortress defendable once Eomer arrives."  
  
"And what if he does not come in time?" Theoden questioned, his doubts plaguing his mind. "What if Saruman's army is upon us before Eomer can reach us? When then, Gamling?"  
  
Gamling knelt down on his knees before his King. "You are our King Theoden, and your men will follow you to whatever end you require. We have not failed you before, my Lord. Believe that we will succeed."  
  
"To whatever end..." Theoden's voice trailed off at the gravity of those words. "Yes," he agreed with a stronger belief, "Eomer will come and in time. That is his way."  
  
"Yes, sire, that is Eomer's way."  
  
~  
  
Old men were testing what was left of their strength as swords were handed to them. Young lads were trying out with their lack of skill the blades that were given to them. Most of them had never seen battle. They were not warriors. No. They were the people that stood behind the lines, but the line was no longer visible. Yet, they were Rohirrim and they were strong. There was nothing for them to do but to fight, to persist.  
  
"Farmers, farriers, stable boys," Aragorn commented. "These are no soldiers."  
  
"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli observed.  
  
"Or too few," Legolas added. "Look at them. They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes." The Rohirrim grew silent as they turned to glance at Legolas and Aragorn. "Boe hun: neled herain dan caer menig!" (And they should be... three hundred against ten thousand!)  
  
"Si beriathar hyn. Amar na ned Edoras." (They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras.)  
  
"Aragorn, men i ndagor," he said fervently. "Hyn u-... ortheri. Natha daged aen!" (Aragorn, we are warriors. They cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!)  
  
"Then I shall die as one of them!" he exclaimed passionately. His eyes glisten with determination as he walked away from Legolas and toward one of the practicing youth, showing him how to use the blade more effectively.  
  
Legolas was about to follow after Aragorn, but Gimli placed a hand on Legolas's arm to stop him. "Let him go, lad. Let him be."  
  
From above where the men practiced their weaponry on a higher point of Helm's Deep, Eowyn and Anaire stood together scrutinizing the spectacle. What conversation they had heard, they had to agree with. Legolas's words were truth. The Rohirrim were frightened and even if bravery overflowed them, courage did not make miracles happen to those that had not the skill to fulfill it.  
  
"You are better this morning?" Eowyn asked gently, feeling guilty about her outburst last night.  
  
Anaire nodded. I am fine. I had forgotten and lost myself to memories that are best to be left where they once were. What Legolas speaks is certainty; your people will all die if something great does not happen soon. The army of Isengard is on the horizon. It is coming, I feel the danger nearing.  
  
"Then we die with them," Eowyn declared resolutely much like Aragorn. It amazed her at the similarity between Eowyn and Aragorn, though Eowyn was a younger and less experience Aragorn. In his youth, she had heard from Elladan and Elrohir, Estel had always striven to prove himself. It was the same as Eowyn, now. "Even if it is hopeless, there are things that must be done. We must stand here, there is no other choice."  
  
There is no other choice, Anaire agreed solemnly. But it is not hopeless. Hope must be kept because that is all that is left. Rohan will not stand alone in this battle. Shifting her zealous eyes to the quiet fortitude in Anaire's, she slowly shook her head with agreement. Rohan did not stand alone. There is a dwarf, son of Gloin; there is a man, son of Arathorn; there is an elf Prince of Mirkwood; and there is I, an elven maiden of Lothlorien. Rohan is not alone in this.  
  
Whatever words Eowyn was about to speak in response was torn from her lips as she cried out at the sight of her brother's men riding in a wave of strength toward Helm's Deep, "EOMER!" Deep inside of her, she knew that her brother--- loyal and noble as he was, would come to their aid--- she just had not known if he'd be in time. Her faith in her brother was not misplaced, indeed she had misjudged. He was more than in time.  
  
Running down the stairs, she did not need to call for the watchmen to open the gate for her brother, they did so without command. They knew friend from foe, and Eomer and his Rohirrim warriors were friends of old. Though Eowyn reached her older sibling first, their Uncle was one of the first given notice of their arrival. His approach was much more reserved with regal bearing as befitted a King.  
  
After hugging his sister heartedly, he bowed before his King, his Uncle Theoden, "I have heard that the shadow that resided in you has been forced whence it came by the might of Gandalf the White. I have heard that Grima has been banished like once he had through using you exiled me. If all that is true, then my men loyal to Rohan will once again fight by their rightful King."  
  
"All that you have heard is true," Theoden responded, his eyes filled with love and affection for his nephew, "and your King would be proud to have you fight by his side like old times." It was then that they embraced, letting the division caused by the meddling of Grima to disappear entirely. "It is good to have warriors true to Rohan here to defend the walls of Helm's Deep."  
  
Eomer nodded his head, his eyes searching for someone for he had seen Aragorn, Legolas, and the dwarf Gimli, but not her. So where was she, the mysterious elven maiden that haunted him when he slept for these many nights? It was then that he caught sight of her making her way slowly down toward them, trying not to be too conspicuous. Whatever hope she'd had to not drawn attention was dashed when he rushed toward her, grabbing her by the arm, the eyes of those around falling onto her.  
  
"You said to believe in hope, I do," he told her intensely. "It is because of you."  
  
From where Legolas stood, both Aragorn and Gimli had to restrain the elven prince from hastening toward Anaire's side. Both Aragorn and Gimli felt that whatever was going on between the pair, it wasn't for Legolas to interrupt as much as he wanted to. It seemed that Anaire had caught the emotion that flowed fiercely from Legolas for she turned to him with her understanding eyes. It is nothing, Legolas.  
  
When the tension left his tense body, she shifted her focus back to Eomer, who had released his hold on her. It is good that you believe in hope, but do think it is because of me. It is not. Look around you, Eomer, son of Kings, you are the one the Rohirrims look to with hope. You are their hope, if not for yourself but for them, you must have faith. You are their faith.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Yes, I use a lot of lines from the movie and it will be like this until the end of Helm's Deep. After that, things will diverge (obviously since there's no movie to base it on). Tentatively, Pelennor is scheduled to begin in Chapter 14 and will last at least 1.5 chapters it not 2 chapters. Helm's Deep is the longest chapter I've written so far, so Pelennor should be longer and probably will be longer. Helm's Deep is basically written uncut (not slashing back and forth like the movie) so yeah it's intense and long. Pelennor, I don't know, give me your thoughts about it when I release Helm's Deep which is the next chapter.  
  
And YES, I'm aware that I've let Anaire change places with Aragorn in this, but there's a reason. The reason for the replacement of Anaire with Theoden is to show her past and with Anaire and Eowyn, that will come into play later. It's very, very useful, can you guess why? Anyway, comments and reviews are a godsend and yeah Chapter 13 was a b**** to write, and you wouldn't want me to stop at a cliffhanger would you? So REVIEW, REVIEW! 


	12. Arc 2: The Lasting Siege

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
PLEASE review, PRETTY PLEASE?  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! The awesome author of Sarlisse! (which I beta!)  
  
~  
  
Question that I want answered: Is this a typical Mary-Sue? Is it a Mary- Sue?  
  
~  
  
12: The Lasting Siege (March 7, 2003 to March 10, 2003)  
  
If it had been any other time, there'd have been a huge celebration at Eomer's return. But Anaire had cautioned them that it was in the dimness of the night that the forces of Isengard would assault them. She was not sure if it was to come this night or the next, but she was certain it when it came it was going to be in the darkness of the night. And even with the gathering of Eomer's strong, battle hardened men--- she did not think it was enough to turn the tide in their favor.  
  
It was then that she was overcome by a vision, a terrible sight of thousands of Uruks approaching, scaling the walls--- breaking into Helm's Deep. She gasped and rocked backwards. If it had not been for Legolas, she surely would have fallen to the ground. As it was, he had to hold her protectively in his arms. Prepare the men, she told him. They arrive tonight.  
  
Legolas's eyes widened and he shouted out in elvish to Aragorn to be ready the men, that their Anaire had foresee what was to come. At first the men were doubting, who had ever heard of a prophet? But their disbelief was dispelled when they saw her unfocused eyes, eyes that saw what was to take place. This foresight was strong only because it was near. It wasn't hours away, it was mayhap an hour away. It was going to be soon, she felt it in the hollow of her bones. And Eomer trusted her, his men soon gathered at the forefront of the barracks--- prepared as they were to defend their Keep.  
  
It was soon that the guards of Helm's Deep were able to make out the thousands of lit torches carried by the enormous, advancing army of the Uruk-hai. The gleam of the fire bounced off their armour, making them look even more menacing than they already appeared. They were indeed a force to be reckoned with. There were only a few more moments to go before the defense of Helm's Deep began.  
  
"You should go into the caves with the rest of the women and children," Legolas whispered softly into her ear. She stood at the forefront of the lines next to Gimli and besides Legolas. "Eowyn has already gone down below. You should follow her."  
  
She did not shift her attention to him. But she understood very well where his words were coming from. She felt the anxious worry and deep concern vibrate from him. "Legolas," she murmured to his complete awe, her gift is to heal as well it as it is to fight. I have no gift in healing. My use is better here.  
  
"But it is dangerous," he replied fervently. "We face certain..."  
  
Her hands closed over his lips before he spoke of their doom. It is not the time to think of that, she responded fiercely. If you have no hope, then how can they? She gestured to all the frightened civilians made into soldiers that lined the battlements. At least you have seen war and battle firsthand; they have no experience--- none at all. Think of how they feel, do you not sense their fears? It is overwhelming, overpowering-- - even more than the darkness emanated from the armies of Isengard.  
  
His eyes were filled with melancholy at her bittersweet tone. But the gloomy emotion was replaced by a fire to fight out to whatever end was required, and he had promised Haldir to protect her with his life--- that he would do. His thoughts drifted to the close bond that Haldir and Anaire had... were they more than teacher and student, friend and companion--- were they lovers? It had been a thought he had not confronted for the fear of the answer that he knew it was going to be.  
  
Yet, at this time and at this moment, Haldir was not here. It was he that stood by her side, that was giving his life to shield her from danger. Right now before death was imminent, he wanted to touch her--- he needed to feel her warmth. Lifting his hand up, he touched her cheek tenderly, tracing the scar delicately that blemished her aching beauty. While he caressed her, she did not move, but her eyes did shift to meet his intense blue eyes. There was no reproach in her eyes, only a kind comprehension that he needed something to remind him of life, of light.  
  
Far from them, Eomer saw the intimate contact between Legolas and Anaire. He felt his stomach tighten and his heart squeezed. It did not surprise him that the two were close; he had seen it before when he had stumbled upon the Fellowship on the rolling plains of Rohan. But it was with disappointment that he saw the physical touch that confirmed his suspicions. He sighed deeply and shouted orders to his men to be prepare, to not lose focus. They were fighting not for themselves this time, but for the continued existence of the Rohirrim.  
  
~  
  
Celeborn knew what Haldir wanted to ride out with the fleetest of the mounted Galadhrim guard to reach Anaire's side. Galadriel had already seen the doom that was awaiting her pupil, her Fanyarelisse. But something Galadriel had said was plaguing Celeborn's mind. If they sent all their forces to the aid of men, Lothlorien would fall to the destruction of orcs. If they sent only half their Guard, there was a tenuous line they would stand on. Even one elf may make the difference in this War of the Ring.  
  
Yet, if Lothlorien fell--- what light was left in Middle Earth? As much as he wanted to help the race of men, his first duty was to his homeland--- his own people. As Lord of Lothlorien, he had made it his mission to protect its beauty and its light. The question was not when he was going to send the Galadhrim out, but how many he would send. There was no doubt in who was going to be the commander. That duty rested with the Head of Guard and March Warden, Haldir.  
  
I know what troubles your mind, Galadriel's soothing voice spoke into his distressed thoughts. It is your choice, Celeborn. The time of elves is ending, you know which way I lean. Once the days of elves come to an end, there is nothing to keep me here. If you will not join me, then it is up to you to decide.  
  
"Not even for Estelinde will you stay?" he questioned softly. He knew of Galadriel's great love for their adopted daughter, it was Anaire that had drawn them closer to each other--- made them remember of their undying love for each other. That deep affection had been severed once Celebrian had sailed for Valinor, Galadriel had drifted into an abyss of grief that was unreachable. Now, she had crept out of it. There was a life in his beloved once more. "What if she does not hear the call when you wish? Will you force her to leave?"  
  
It was not in Galadriel to part with another so dear to her heart. Losing one was hard enough. "What if she does hear the call of the sea, what then will you do, Celeborn, my love? Will you follow us? Or will you stay here and linger until your time comes, for it will come... the days of elves are coming to a close. It is an admirable end we will take by helping our cousins in our final gesture to Middle Earth."  
  
"But what if she does not?" he earnestly approached the topic that he knew she did not want to confront.  
  
She had not even thought about Anaire not joining her in Valinor at the end of this age. "All that can be done is what is now, the future is still changeable," she answered her husband's question vaguely but with a definite tilt. The decision in whether Galadriel dwelling in Middle Earth after the War of the Ring and the coming of the end of elven days rested in Anaire. It was what Celeborn had expected. He was not ready to leave yet, even at the approaching of the conclusion--- he did not think Anaire was either.  
  
~  
  
Thousands upon thousands of Uruk-hai gathered in front of the immense walled fortress of Helm's Deep. They raised their swords up as they screamed their battle cries. Gimli, being a dwarf, had no notion of the terrifying display of strength of the enemy being only able to hear their cries because of his short stature. "You could have picked a better spot," he grumbled to both Anaire and Legolas. The tall wall was of no problem to their tall figures. "Now is not the time to be getting all comfy either!"  
  
Quickly, Legolas withdrew his hand from Anaire's cheek, mentally glad for Gimli's blunt reminder. He'd almost forgotten where he was and what time it was. It was not a time to be getting soft, rather it was the time to be hard--- harden his spirit. There was to be much bloodshed tonight, and he needed to be on his toes to protect Anaire. Who else was going to guard her if he didn't?  
  
"I can defend myself," she stated adamantly, her eyes staring holes into his own. Unlike you, she began with intensity, who have no reason to hate the Uruk-hai, I do. For they are cousins of those that murdered my father.  
  
Patting her arm with his gruff and heavy hand, Gimli with confidence in her ability and worry for her safety, "We believe you can look after yourself, Anaire, but we still are concerned for you as good friends should be. Is that wrong?"  
  
She shook her head. "It is not wrong, Master Dwarf," she answered kindly, her eyes shining with warmth. She was fond of Gimli mostly because of his adoration of her amme and also because of his good humor in troubled times. He reminded her of when Haldir was in one of his rare jovial moods. Thinking of Haldir made her remember how much she missed his company, his companionship. At least, she had Legolas by her side--- he made her feel safe much like Elrohir.  
  
"Good, good," Gimli responded heartily. The dwarf glanced at Legolas and in a good-natured voice made a boastful declaration in the spirit of a friendly rivalry, "I bet you, Legolas, I will kill more Uruks than you when this night is through!"  
  
Rollings his eyes up into the black sky, Legolas notched two arrows into his bow in preparation for the barrage that was about to begin. "I take your stake and wager that I will easily twice your numbers for I will have the head start on you, Gimli."  
  
It was a sweet sound to her sensitive ear to hear their cheerful conversation before the dawning of destruction. The awful sense of foreboding had made her fear for Gimli and Legolas, but as she concentrated harder in an attempt to see what the future held for them--- she thankfully did not see anything ominous. That did not mean it could not happen, but it was unlikely to happen. Their lightness of manner in times as dark as these reminded her why she had not given up to the shadows that had squeezed her soul.  
  
Once Aragorn had reassured the men that had been given to his command, he approached with what remained of the Fellowship, taking a spot next to Gimli. Below them, the Uruk-hai were roaring and thumping their spears ferociously on the ground while their leader stood on a rock, gesturing commands to those that surround him. It was then that Aragorn lifted up his arm to signal to his men to take aim with their bows. "Show them no mercy! For you shall receive none!"  
  
"What's happening out there?" Gimli cried out, straining to jump up high enough to see what was going on below him.  
  
"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas inquired lightly with a grin. "Or would you like me to find you a box?"  
  
The fact that Gimli laughed easily at the joke spoke well of the lengths their friendship had come. It was impossible for her to believe that their rivalry had once not been on friendly terms, but fierce conditions. All that had changed abruptly at the departure from Lothlorien, but the true beginnings had happened in the mines of Moria when Legolas had reached out with his hand to grab Gimli's beard, saving his life. She sensed that their friendship was going to be deep and lasting.  
  
In a moment of panic, an old man accidentally let loose his arrow, which struck an orc. "HOLD!" Aragorn shouted at the men, all of whom had their bows aimed and ready to fire. As they waited with for their commander's signal, the Uruks roar in rage and start their angry charge onto the walls of Helm's Deep.  
  
In another section of the fortifications, Theoden with grave eyes and a solemn voice stated, "So it begins." His eyes were filled with sorrow and sadness as Eomer places his hand upon his Uncle's shoulder with reassurance and respect. When the King shifted his eyes to Eomer's glimmering ones, his own heart began to believe in the impossible that resided in Eomer's heart. Eomer believed they had the ability to overcome,;it was all there was left to believe in. It was as Anaire said: there must be hope.  
  
With a word of advice to Aragorn's men, Legolas declared, "Their armor is weak at the neck and under the arms."  
  
Timing the attack perfectly, to work against the momentum of the Uruks, Aragorn yelled, "FIRE!"  
  
From the ramparts, the arrows sing out to their chosen destinations. Legolas's two arrows found their new home in the necks of two Uruks, while Anaire's split into the arm of another. Without having to be told to ready themselves again, both elves were shooting arrows as fast as they could grab another and pull the string and fire at will. Their arrows were flying through the air rapidly, felling many orcs, but still not dwindling their numbers enough.  
  
"Anybody hit anything?" Gimli questioned, still trying to peer over the wall when Anaire grabbed him by his collar and pulled him back before the ladder that landed in the spot knocked the dwarf off his guard. When Gimli saw it, he mentally thanked Anaire for her quickness. She nodded at him; she had heard his thoughts.  
  
"Ladders!" Aragorn warned as all around them ladders were being placed against the wall. The time where the bow was going to be most useful was fading quickly. With strength from her elvish heritage, she pushed all the ladders that were near her off the wall. As quick as she was in doing so, the ladders were piling onto the wall at a frightening speed. It was as she was trying to push one ladder down that a Uruk appeared and nearly cut her into two if it were not for Legolas's quick action in aiming an arrow at the foe that killed it with dead on accuracy.  
  
"Good!" Gimli exclaimed as he brandished his axe and started hacking away at the Uruks that had made it from the ladder to the bulwarks. "And be careful," he commented to Anaire as he slammed his blade into the belly of a Uruk that was about to assault her, "near the ladders."  
  
"Anaire!" Legolas exclaimed as he released two arrows that found the targets that were about to attack her. "Stay away from the ladders!"  
  
With Gimli and Legolas fighting to either side of her, she was lucky to get any action anywhere. It wasn't that she was looking for danger, but she was more able to protect herself than the poor villagers that had no experience with arms at all! But her irritation at Gimli and Legolas was lightened when she heard Gimli's delightful declaration, "Legolas, two already!"  
  
"I'm on seventeen!" Legolas retorted.  
  
"Arg!" Gimli roared. "I'll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!"  
  
"Nineteen!"  
  
At least their competition got their attention off of her as she slipped past them to block the blade of a Uruk that was about to cut down a helpless boy that was barely old enough to wield a weapon, much less be able to use it effectively. A jolt of fear rode into her as she dodged the sword and scarcely missed being sliced in the arm. Luckily, Gimli drove his axe into one of the Uruks while Legolas stabbed the other with the arrow in his hand, giving her precious time to drive her sword into the throat of the Uruk that was about to kill the lad.  
  
"Do not stray," Legolas warned her as he let loose his arrows at close range with blazing speed. "Stay close, Anaire, I beg of you." He was serious, and it was safer to be near his side anyway. It'd had been foolish of her to try to get too far away. She fought much better when her back at least was watched. To let him know that she heard him, she nodded as she parried another attack and easily gutted the orc.  
  
"Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen," Gimli chanted as he beheaded and axed Uruk after Uruk. "Twenty. Twenty one. Twenty two."  
  
"Northway!" Aragorn cried out. With alarm in his eyes while he slashed away at the enemies near him only to see what he feared to see. It had occured to him that Saruman would only attack Helm's Deep if he had a weapon that would breach the wall. The torch that the Uruk was carrying toward the cesspool was it, that was the reason Saruman had dared to send out his Isengard army. "Togo hon dad, Legolas! Dago hon! Dago hon!" (Bring him down, Legolas! Kill him! Kill him!)  
  
Shifting his focus immediately to the more important of the task, he aimed an arrow and did not bring the Uruk down and quickly reloaded to fire again. He was only able to get the second shot because Anaire was protecting his back; she staved off any attacks that Legolas was not aware of. She winced as one of her elven blades was wrenched from her grasp. Thrusting the other into the belly of the orc, she withdrew her sword and quickly countered the attack that was about to fall onto Legolas's unawared back.  
  
Her wrist was aching like fire as she slit the throat of the Uruk as Legolas failed to bring down the Uruk, despite hitting his target dead on. There was little he could do as he watched the Uruk throw himself at his goal. It was with agony that he watched his failure come to full terms as the unbreakable wall of Helm's Deep was broken. The quakes of the parapets as the wall shattered knocked Anaire off balanced and she was falling when Gimli reached to grab her by her wrist. But it was too late and her force was too much as she and Gimli fell from off the walls and into the heart of the enemy.  
  
"Anaire!" Legolas screamed, turmoil in his voice as ,with disbelief, he watched her descend into a danger beyond the danger already there. His fears were double folded as he watched his good friend also fall trying to rescue her. "Gimli!"  
  
"Gimli! Anaire!" Aragorn yelled in distress. His eyes were filled with the desperation that mirrored Legolas's as he shouted, "Prepare to charge! Hurl the arrows! Charge!"  
  
As Aragorn led his men toward the Uruk-hai that stream into the keep, Legolas took the faster way down. Grabbing a shield, he sent it sliding down as he hopped on it--- surfing down the steps, releasing arrow after arrow before kicking the shield to stab the Uruk that was about to deal a deadly blow to Anaire. As he shielded her from the attacks, she reached to help Gimli who had already picked himself up despite having broken their fall. It was then that Aragorn arrived and forcibly picked Gimli up into his arms while Legolas grabbed Anaire's hand and ran with her after Aragorn.  
  
"Aragorn!" Theoden shouted. "Fall back to the Keep! Get your men out of there!"  
  
Aragorn did not have to be told twice. "To the Keep! Pull back to the Keep! Legolas, to the Keep!"  
  
It was Legolas and Anaire together that were watching the backs of Aragorn's men in the retreat. While Gimli was struggling in Aragorn's arms, Anaire offset the attack of a Uruk easily but was caught off guard when another Uruk attacked her from another side. It was all she could do to block that blow with her aching wrist. It was not long before she lost her hold on her sword and all she had left was the dagger Elladan had given to her, that had served her well before. In desperation, she launched herself at the three Uruks that were attacking Legolas for coming to her aid, managing to fell one.  
  
She had been too focused in trying to help Legolas she had not even tried to think about what the Uruks were thinking. When she saw the widening of Legolas's eyes, she knew what was about to happen was not going to be good. In a flash, she saw herself being stabbed brutally--- saw the life force drain from her body--- without anything in which to protect herself. But she had forgotten that Aragorn and Gimli had not forgotten their companions, coming to their aid, cutting down the orcs that threatened them.  
  
"Go!" Aragorn commanded them. "Watch over her Legolas, she favors her right wrist!"  
  
Legolas cursed himself when he saw that her wrist was red and bruised. He hadn't even noticed that as he had grabbed that very same wrist and tried to drag her toward safety. He was so busy reprimanding himself that he didn't even notice until it was too late that Aragorn and Gimli were jumping back into the throe of battle. "No!" Anaire cried out. She was about to go after then when Legolas stopped her.  
  
"We will be of more help to them above!" Legolas exclaimed fervently. "Come with me, Anaire." He held his hand out to her, which she took reluctantly.  
  
Meanwhile as Aragorn and Gimli battled their way through the Uruk-hai, making their way to Theoden's and Eomer's side, they hear Theoden's shouting commands, "Hold them!"  
  
"How long do you need?" Aragorn inquired.  
  
"Brace the gates!" Gamling exclaimed.  
  
"As long as you can give me!" Theoden remarked.  
  
"Gimli!" Aragorn called and instantly the dwarf was by their side. Before they slipped out of the side exit, a steady and strong hand was placed on Aragorn's shoulder. It was Eomer, he was not about to let the man and the dwarf alone in their dangerous mission to save Rohan alone. They were his people, after all. When Aragorn saw who it was, he nodded, grateful for the additional sword.  
  
"Come on!" Gimli said fiercely. "We can take 'em!"  
  
"It's a long way," Aragorn commented after taking a peek.  
  
Gimli moved over and looked for himself before stepping back. "Toss me," he mumbled beneath his breath.  
  
"What?" Aragorn queried, not sure if he heard what Gimli had said clearly.  
  
"He said to toss him," Eomer inputted.  
  
"I cannot jump the distance so you have to toss me!"  
  
Eomer grinned and shared an exchange with Aragorn as he watched Aragorn grab the dwarf and was about to throw him when Gimli grabbed his hand, "Oh! Don't tell the Elf."  
  
"Not a word," Aragorn promised.  
  
After he had tossed Gimli over the causeway, Eomer and he were ready to leap after him. "I'm ready when you are," Eomer declared.  
  
"Let's go," Aragorn stated as both men jumped over the jetty with ease, joining Gimli in the fray. The three warriors made quick work in killing many Uruk-hai, but the numbers never ceased in replacing those that were killed.  
  
The battle was getting bleaker and bleaker when Theoden shouted through the crack, "Eomer! Gimli! Aragorn! Get out of there!"  
  
At the top of the battlements, Legolas and Anaire had been watching their companions with worry and anxiety. "Aragorn!" Legolas exclaimed, as he tossed them a rope from above. Quickly grabbing onto the rope, Aragorn also clutched Gimli tightly to him. Eomer also took hold of the rope and lended a hand in making sure Gimli made it up with them. The Uruks below them were not about to let them go that easily, but they had nothing to worry about as Anaire aimed her arrows at those that endangered them, picking them off easily.  
  
"Pull everybody back!" Theoden cried out to his men. "Pull them back!"  
  
As the King of Rohan shouted this, Legolas and Anaire were busy using their arrows to aid in the retreat by slicing away at the super-ladders that the Uruks were trying to use to breach more of their forces into the Keep. Both of them manage to fell several of the long ladders, but as soon as one falls two more are swung up. "Retreat!" Eomer shouted to the men near him, grabbing Anaire by the arm to pull her with him in withdrawal. "Withdraw!"  
  
"They've broken through!" Aragorn exclaimed. "Come, to the keep!"  
  
With Legolas and Aragorn covering their backs, the rest of them hurried into the Keep. Anaire had no choice but to let Eomer drag her into the safety, his hold on her arm was strong--- with his care and concern. She had seen the way he looked at her with overflowing admiration. She wondered if it was because her beauty was incomparable to the moral woman or that he saw something like Haldir saw. She did not have much time to think about anything when the door was shut and Legolas rush up to her, wrapping his arms around her.  
  
"I thank Elentari that you are safe."  
  
~  
  
From Rivendell and Mirkwood, the elves were arriving to play their part in the Last March of the Elves. The past few hours had been harsh on Celeborn as he had wracked his brain to try to figure out what course he would take. Did he leave Lorien protected? Did he leave his home vulnerable? What Galadriel spoke of was true, there was going to be an attack by the orcs.  
  
As he glanced around at the beauty of what light there was left in the constantly dimming world, his heart grew heavier. To see this land darkened like Mirkwood--- it made his heart ache. He was so busy reflecting that he didn't notice his wife come up behind him and rest her hands on his tense shoulders. Her lips were close to his ear, her face beside his, "Lorien will not fall whatever course you decide."  
  
Celeborn knew she was saying this to reassure him. She had not meant to plague his mind with vicious worry, but the concern of her home had been at the forefront of her mind. For her to say this meant that the situation against Mordor was more imminent and important even than their home. "If Lorien should fall but the war won," she continued, "then Lorien will be rebuilt and will not truly fall to darkness. If Lorien should not fall but the war lost, then Lorien will eventually delve into doom."  
  
What she spoke of was true. "I will leave a minimal Guard to protect the the city," he said resolutely. "But the main force of the Galadhrim will accompany Haldir and I to the battlefields." He paused and turned around to gaze deeply into his wife's wise eyes. "Will you not join us, nin meleth?" (my love)  
  
She shook her head and rested her hands on Celeborn's face tenderly. "I am no use there. At least here with Nenya, I can protect Lorien to the best of my ability," she replied softly. "Tell Fanyarelisse that she is as if she were my real daughter, it has taken me far too long to realize that. And... amin mela lle." (I love you)  
  
"Im meleth inta," he whispered back. Holding her wrists away from caressing his face, he bent his head down to his beloved and gently brushed a soft kiss against her sweet lips. This tenderness lasted for long moments before he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss with the passion he had for her still despite all the years. Love did not fade. (I love you)  
  
~  
  
There had been no choice, only unanimous consensus that there was but one option--- to make one charge for Rohan in the hopes that the women and the children could make for the mountain pass. When word of the attack reached Legolas, who was tending to her burning and aching wrist, he looked as if he was about to brush a kiss over her forehead but stopped when she drew away from him. There was a brief pain in his eyes, but faded as quickly as it came.  
  
When Anaire tried to get up to be part of the last charge, he placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and stated with resolve, "You cannot wield a weapon, Anaire. Please go with Eowyn to the safety of the mountain pass." He gestured to where Eowyn was directing the women and children toward the only hope of escape. "Go, Anaire, please," he beseeched her. "I promised Haldir I would protect you with my life, this is the best choice for your well being."  
  
Whatever she was about to reply with, the fact he had said that he had promised Haldir to keep her safe made her hesitate. She could only imagine the turmoil in Haldir if he realized that she had foolishly gotten herself killed. As she searched in her mind for what her path was, she came up empty--- no foreboding, nothing at all. Mayhap, this wasn't the road her destiny was to take. Had she played her part already?  
  
She nodded and rushed to Eowyn's side to help her gather and carry what babies whose mothers were too weary to hold any longer. When Legolas was sure that she was going toward security, he turned around and made full speed to the front of the battle lines. It was not long before he was next to Aragorn and Gimli, fighting for the survival of Anaire as much as the survival of Rohan. The battle was growing more and more frantic and discouraging when the sun began to rise like Mithrandir had said.  
  
At the forefront of the hill was where Gandalf rode on Shadowfax with an army from the Westfold. It seemed there was still the alliance in the heart of men for their brothers. As he raised his staff at the same time as the leader of the Westfold lifted his sword, the White Rider and the Westfold army rode down into the valley and confronted the Uruk-hai head on.  
  
In the background the sound of the horn of Helm Hammerhand rang throughout Helm's Deep like the hope that resonated into the hearts of the Rohirrim's restored faith.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: To keep you updated, the story has been extended as I add more original scenes. The next chapter will be a bit different and almost entirely original, which means I do not follow book or movie, but both my beta-readers delighted in it. I'm sure that it will delight you as well. It doesn't fall out of canon, no, it stays pretty true to it, but as said the reason the elves stayed is different and hint hint, does that bring you up to a clue? I've always written more scenes of Eomer and Eowyn, in the movie they were almost too insignificant, but not here! 


	13. Arc 2: The Last March of the Elves

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
PLEASE review, PRETTY PLEASE?  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! The awesome author of Sarlisse! (which I beta!)  
  
~ 13: Last March of the Elves (March 9, 2003 to March 17, 2003)  
  
The elves of Mirkwood and Imladris had left enough of a force to protect their homes before marching to Lorien to meet in one large gathering of what was left of elven strength. It was impressive, but when compared to the War of the Last Alliance--- it brought a clear picture of how much the numbers of their kind had dwindled during this Third Age. As Elrond, Celeborn, and Thranduil surveyed the elven army, it was Elrond that spoke what was on all their minds, "They know they are walking to their doom, but they do so willingly like years passed."  
  
It was then that Galadriel approached to stand as the only Lady amongst them. Her eyes were veiled for she did not want them to see the fate she had glimpse into from her Mirror. There were things that were best not known, it was a possibility that the course the elves were taking would shift the direction of the future she had seen. There was nothing she could offer but her faith in their people.  
  
"I do not know what danger awaits," she began in full truth for she only knew what may await, "but I know that in our people there is a bravery that is unmatched," the elven warriors all nodded their heads in agreement, "there is a nobility that is above all, and lastly there is aptitude to carry this burden of Arda through. We decided a hundred seasons ago that it was not our time to abandon this land; in our choice to stay, we again will fight for the right of all that is good." She paused dramatically, tilting her head to gaze at all the gathering of elven kind. "There is nothing I can offer other than my faith and my prayers that Elbereth will watch over her children."  
  
The elves, united from different lands and diverse divisions applauded Galadriel's heartwarming farewell speech. It was fitting that she would be that one that offered them blessings, for it was she had done the very same with the Fellowship of the Ring. It was with healthy spirits and calmed minds that the elves departed to their sleeping grounds to rest for the Last March of the Elves.  
  
Once the Rivendell elves had settled in, Elrond called forth his twin sons to a special meeting that included the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien, Thranduil, and Haldir. Gesturing to them to approached the Council table, he asked them to be seated next to Haldir as he explained why he had called them, "The race of Men do not know of our wish to aid them again their fight against Mordor, indeed they have no idea of the force we will send. It will be your duty, Elladan and Elrohir to inform them of our imminent arrival."  
  
As expected of his twin sons, they nodded gravely and it was Elladan that spoke in an assertive voice, "The Dunedain have been following our trail since we have departed from Rivendell. They are journeying to join Estel's side, if Elrohir and I leave immediately, we will ride with them to the front and deliver the message of the Last March."  
  
Their father nodded at Elladan's plan. "Is there anything that you, King Thranduil, would like to be sent to your son, Legolas? It is without doubt that your son rides by the side of Estel." Thranduil quickly shook his head that he did indeed have something that he wanted to be given to his son. He placed his sword on the round table, a sword he had carried into battle that he now wanted his son to have on the final battlefield. "And you, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel... for Anaire?"  
  
The Lord and Lady of Lothlorien both shook their heads. They did not have anything that they wished to give to Anaire, but they did have something else in mind. It was normal for Haldir, even as the March Warden of the Golden Woods, to attend a meeting of this prestige. It was Galadriel that tilted her head to her Head of Guard that signified that though they had nothing for their adopted daughter, Haldir had something for his student.  
  
All the elves in the room turned to Haldir with veiled curiosity. After all, Haldir's reputation as being cool and untouchable preceded him everywhere he went. Indeed, the elf that had the most intrigue in what Haldir wished to give to Anaire was Elrohir undoubtedly, even though Elladan tended to be the more inquisitive of the twins. With all the attention on him, Haldir was without surprise--- emotionless.  
  
Standing from his seat, he walked over purposely to where Elladan and Elrohir were seated and without any hesitation placed a gleaming silver ring into Elrohir's palm. The ring was pure mithril, exquisite and breathtaking. What was even more significant was the scripted words that said amin mela lle, nin istelile. It was a blatant declaration of Haldir's wish to plight his troth with Anaire. And it was done in the typical Haldir-like way, in a positively sure manner. (I love you, my silverstar)  
  
"Please give this to her for me," Haldir stated in a confident, reserved voice. "I am not sure if she will know what this ring means, but if she does not--- will you explain it to her?" It was there that his tone took a dip in his certainty. There was a note of worry, which made it all the more touching. "I have thought long and hard about this, and in times like these--- things are uncertain, but my feelings for her are what they are. I had meant to wait until after but I cannot make myself wait any longer. I have waited too long already."  
  
It was after Anaire's departure that he had approached Celeborn and Galadriel with his request to plight his troth with Anaire whenever the right opportunity arose as it did now. To his complete astonishment, for he'd been expecting anything but acceptance, they'd told him in frank and amused voices that he had been slow to react on emotions that were clearly visible. That had comforted and reassured him greatly.  
  
And yet their approval had surprised him most assuredly. After all, unlike Elrond--- he was neither a Lord nor a master of any elven stronghold. Nor was he as legendary as Celebrian's husband was to Middle Earth. He was merely Haldir, their March Warden and Head of Guard. He was nothing extraordinary. In their support of his suit, he felt a self-assurance rise up inside of him. An assurance he had not felt before.  
  
"His words ring with truth," Galadriel spoke. "Haldir o Lorien has indeed waited too long to plight his troth with Anaire. But as he has said, in times like these--- the future is gravely uncertain. Yet in the uncertainties, some things will always remain as they are. It gladdens my heart that you have seen this, Haldir. I hope that your desires may be fulfilled, your love satisfied."  
  
Once his beloved had finished speaking, Celeborn continued where she left off, "In all the years that you have known her, you have shown her a care and a friendship that cannot easily be no matter what length of distance one may journey to find it. You give her a great gift, not measured in the treasure that the ring is--- as mithril, for you give to her your trueness of love, your heart. It is all that one can ever ask of another--- giving the fullness of the heart. Yet when one gives and then receives, then there is completeness of union."  
  
Their words were a keen reminder that nothing was as of yet, set in stone. Anaire could still reject his plight and break his heart in the process. He'd never considered at any length of time that she might refuse him, it wasn't because he was overconfident--- it was that the thought was too terrible to bear. At the same time, their words were a kind reminder that they supported him in his suit, something that carried more than the weight of words.  
  
"I will be sure to give this to her the moment that I rest eyes on her," Elrohir promised, closing his hand over the mithril promise ring. "Have no fear, all speed will be made and it will not be more than a few days before we are able to seal this bind if fate wills it to be." At these words, Haldir turned sharply to Elrohir and stared at Anaire's sworn brother eye to eye, face to face. "And I cannot see why it would not be." There was an understanding between the two, Elrohir approved of him--- that was an approval beyond Galadriel's to the level of Celeborn's.  
  
It was Elrond that broke the impending silence after Elrohir's declaration with a voice that was commanding and conscious of the situation coming, "You two must leave quickly." Elladan and Elrohir nodded, already starting to gathering up their stuff together and getting ready to make a swift departure. "We will be following with the elven army not long after you, but with lesser men and fleeter horses--- you will be faster than us. As I told you previously, warn them of our imminent arrival. We will be there."  
  
"Yes, father," Elladan responded while Elrohir went to his grandmother and bend his head down so that she might kiss him on the forehead. Once that exchange had finished, Elladan called out to his younger brother, "Let's get going Elrohir, we have a long distance to travel in the shortest amount of time possible."  
  
Elrohir gave one last smile to his grandmother before winking mischievously at Haldir and patting the pocket where he'd safely placed the promise ring. Tell Fanyarelisse that Celeborn approves of the match, that Celeborn and I support Haldir's plight. And..., her mental voice broke up before she was again able to continue, tell her that it is not only Haldir that has strong emotions for her. Send our love with you to the battlefield.  
  
"I will," he vowed. "That I will do."  
  
~  
  
She had said she was not going to forget again and lose herself into the past. But it was hard when all this bloodshed reminded her of the misery she had once been through. She shuddered even though the air was hardly chilly. Rather the atmosphere was stained by the blood of Uruks and men alike. She was still trembling when she felt her white cloak being placed onto her shoulders by Legolas.  
  
Purposely, she stepped away from him after he'd wrapped her cloak around her. She saw the look in his eyes whenever he gazed upon her, she knew how he felt about her. The problem was that she wasn't ready for anything beyond friendship. She felt strongly about Celeborn and Galadriel, they had watched over and cared for her all these years--- but at the back of her mind, she feared that her affection did not go as deep as theirs did for her. There were times she felt horribly isolated from everything; she'd always felt removed ever since they had brought her back.  
  
To have her move away from him stung him. Try as he might, he was never able to truly reach her. Yes, there were the times like when she'd agreed to ride with him on the horse, when she'd fallen into his arms in her time of need--- but truly had she ever really opened up to him? No. He wondered if it was only him or if it was everyone. From what conversation he'd had with Aragorn, he'd found that even he did not know Anaire well at all.  
  
She was a mystery. It seemed that was what she wished to remain. But how he desired to get closer to her, as close as she allowed. Hesitantly, with the care of a hunter to that of the hunted, he approached her one step at a time. When he was finally within reaching distance of her, she again placed herself out of his reach. She was definitely avoiding him. "Anaire," he called out to her, wanting her to at least look at him--- at least he might look at her if she'd not let him be close to her.  
  
It was with horrible disappointment to him that she failed to glance in his direction. "Anaire," he repeated, trying to draw her focus from whatever she was thinking back once more to him. His first attempt had failed, he only hoped the second did not follow the first. "Why are you ignoring me?" His hopes were in vain for she did not even waver. "Anaire!"  
  
What you ask, I cannot give to you, she answered in a voice full of knowing for she had broken her rule never to glimpse into a mind. She did it when she was provoked and had no choice. Since she had not turned around, she had not been able to read his expression. She was afraid that looking at him might sway her, not that dipping into his mind had been any better. In her forage into his depths, she had discovered that he had strong feelings for her, perhaps as strong as Haldir. It shook her to the core; it scared her to the soul. I have nothing to give.  
  
~  
  
The horses were lively; the elves were spirited. This was to be their Last March, and they were going to make it a thing that was to be remembered throughout the history of Middle Earth like their remarkable stand in the War of the Last Alliance. Whatever fear they had of the unknown was not apparent in their calm and relaxed features of those that walked and those that rode to the last battlefield of the last time the elves would fight for what had been their home for thousands of years.  
  
Unfortunately, there were not enough horses that all elves might ride to the battlegrounds proudly. But they made sure that their speed wasn't hinder by the lack of riding mounts as every few hours they rotated from marching to riding to marching to riding again. It kept them progressing quite rapidly out of the Golden Forests to the plains and finally hitting the rolling hills of Rohan. It had been several days for them to travel the distance that a small group on horseback might journey through in a few days at most. But they had to keep their strength up and their senses alert.  
  
What good was going into battle exhausted? Besides, Galadriel had glimpse into her Mirror and had foreseen that they were going to make it to the battle at the right time. Whether they'd turn the tide of the war remained to be seen, but at least they were not going to be the speculation of what might have happened if they had gone. They were going to be there, fighting along the sides of men once more.  
  
For the sake of safety, scouts had been sent to the forefront to scour the lands to make sure that there were to be no attacks on them. Though Galadriel had tried to look into the Mirror to see what danger awaited them on their path, the Mirror did not grant her every wish to see into what may come. All that she knew was that Lorien would be attacked, if Lorien was to be attacked the attackers must come from some direction. The fastest path was the path they took. It made sense to think that they'd stumble among the would-be invaders.  
  
Every elf mounted, every elf on foot stopped when Elrond raised his hand up in warning. Swiftly those elves that guarded the edges of the group pulled out their bows and arrows swiftly, waiting any signal from their leaders in which way to act. The group that guarded the east side looked to Elrond, the elves that lined the west looked to Thranduil, and the elves that made up the rear looked to Celeborn.  
  
It was Celeborn that was communicating through hand gestures to Haldir, who scouted the area ahead with his Galadhrim group. The signals were easy to read, orcs were approaching to the east. With a gesture that said to make haste back to the main group, Haldir and his elven warriors set off with haste speed to join the rest of their elven army. With quick communications with Thranduil and Elrond, the elves under their command immediately faced the east.  
  
Those on foot in the forefront bent down onto their knees and drew their bows while those behind on foot stood standing with their bows drawn. The riders behind them made up the third row and also drew their bows, those behind also ready to fire at will. All three elven leaders had experience with warfare, but undoubtedly Elrond was the most experience and it had been decided that to Elrond the main command was to be given. He was to coordinate all attacks and delegate out the plan to Celeborn and Thranduil.  
  
There was no surprise as the orcs appeared over the hill, ready to assault the elven army they had not expected. They were not blind; they had seen the scouts. They had scouts of their own. The strategy had been to destroy Lothlorien, to obliterate an elven army was not too much different from their instructions. Besides, they had no way to avoid the army that was marching in the direct path from the Golden City.  
  
It was with the delight of devastation that they rushed at the prepared elven archers. Those in the first charge were cut down by the rain of arrows. The first group fired, then proceeded to re-arrow their bows while the second group fired. This well coordinated attack tactic was sequenced by Celeborn's commanding voice that reached all the archers, "Leithio i philinn!" (Fire the arrows!)  
  
Elrond, meanwhile, was going over the charge that was about to take place with Thranduil who was to lead his elves to cut into the ranks of the orcs from the south side while Elrond took the northern direction. It was Elrond that noted that Celeborn worked well face on with the archers, keeping everything systematically and organized while Thranduil was more of a charger, ready to battle head on. It was the Lord of Rivendell that saw that Haldir and his Galadhrims were kept at bay by an outer group of orcs that had attacked them from the rear.  
  
But everything was progressing well as both he and Thranduil joined the battle with a swift, joint attack that took the orcs by surprise. With efficiency and ease they slaughtered the orcs into nothingness. There was no doubt in any of the minds of the elves that this army of orcs had been sent to mar the splendor of Lothlorien. The immortal blood in them rose up in vigor once more as they did away with the threat to the seat of the Golden Woods.  
  
To the last orc, they killed. It was when that last orc had drawn its last breath that the elves surveyed the death and destruction they had dealt out to the enemy. Their eyes were filled with sorrow as they saw their fallen comrades. No, not many elves had been lost but those less experienced, those less battle ready had been lost in this first battle. Those that had siblings, those that had family filled the air with tearful laments until the day turned to night.  
  
Haldir praised his fortune. Though they had been assault from behind unexpectedly while trying to join the rest of their comrades, he had not lost a single elf in his command. There were injuries to be sure--- but none that would disable any from fighting--- all superficial wounds. Others had not been so lucky. As his blue eyes glanced up at Celeborn, he saw the pain in his Lord's eyes at the loss of Lorien blood already. Though Celeborn had seen many years and many deaths, as the years grew on life only became more precious.  
  
The only comforting thought he could give to his Lord was that soon they'd see Anaire again. "We are in Rohan, my lord," Haldir stated respectfully. "Soon, you will hold your daughter into your arms once more. It has been long that you have been parted."  
  
Celeborn nodded. "As it is for you, Haldir," he responded solemnly his eyes staring into the horizon at the shadows the elves made in the light as they buried their dead. "Time has been given to my beloved Galadriel to weave her enchantments to protect Lothlorien," he remarked, smoothly switching subjects. "I wonder if my Estelinde is making use of what enchantments she knows. She never did like dabbling into that realm like her amme."  
  
"She will do what she has to do," Haldir replied with all the confidence in him of his love. "That is her way."  
  
"Yes," Celeborn agreed, "that is her way." No further words were spoken between the pair, but their thoughts were directed toward the same person--- Anaire. The more that Celeborn's eyes drifted into the distance, the more that his misgivings grew. It was true that his gift of reaching and of feeling was not as great as Galadriel's, but as hard as he tried to touch Anaire with his mind--- he failed. He had not felt her presence in his mind for ever a long time. He was anxious for her.  
  
The anxiety in Celeborn was the same one shared by Haldir. He too worried about Anaire's safety, but also about the promise ring he'd given to Elrohir to give to her. He was dreadfully afraid that she might reject his suit. What then would he do? He did not know. Once the dead were buried, the elves continued to move on with an ever-quickening speed. There was no turning back now. The elves had once again joined the battle for Middle Earth.  
  
~  
  
Many days they had ridden through the torrent winds, the violent rains to reach Helm's Deep in record time. They arrive not more than two days after the defense of Helm's Deep had been secured. As Elrohir and Elladan rode with Aragorn's rangers, the Dunedain, closer to the Keep of Rohan, they still smelled the bloodshed in the air. That only made them accelerate their speed toward their brother and their sister, riding ahead of Aragorn's men.  
  
It was with disbelief and relief that Aragorn spotted Elladan and Elrohir riding toward the gates of Helm's Deep. For the days since the battle, Anaire had been inconsolable. At first, she had helped Eowyn tend to the ill, but once the work had leveled off--- she had drifted into herself, she became unreachable. It had been one day and two nights that she sat on the fortification walls unwilling to speak and be near anyone.  
  
When Legolas had tried to urge him to reach her, Aragorn had only shook his head and said softly that he did not know Anaire much better than Legolas did. He had met her only once before the Council of Elrond, when Arwen had wished to introduce the keeper of her heart to the one that her heart was also bound to, her oselle. At least someone was riding to them that knew her well, Aragorn had told him that there were three elves that were closest to her: Elrohir, Celeborn, and Haldir.  
  
"Elladan of Imladris!" Aragorn called out, signaling to those that guarded the gates to quickly open them. "What news do you bring?"  
  
"Good news," Elladan responded, while Elrohir had leapt off his horse and was busy searching for Anaire. "Very good news, the elves will march once more beside the sides of men. Old alliances will be renewed."  
  
His eyes were filled with merriment as he hugged his brother tightly. "How are things in Rivendell?" It was then that Aragorn caught sight of Elrohir looking apprehensively for Anaire, and it was he that read what Elrohir was hoping to find, "She is on the battlements above with Legolas."  
  
Elrohir glanced up, saw Anaire sitting on the wall with Legolas standing behind her, watching. After Elladan and Aragorn watched him disappear, the real concern in Aragorn's heart spoke up, "How is Arwen?" Instinctively, his hand moved up to his throat to gently caress the evenstar pendant that he always wore since she had bestowed it to him that eve of their pledge.  
  
"She is good, there is much that I need to speak to you of. Where is the King of Rohan?" Elladan inquired. "This matter is for his ears as well. Your Dunedain rode behind us, our horses were faster than theirs. Tell me though, is Anaire well?"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "She is not, war is hard on her."  
  
The words Aragorn spoke were true as Elrohir soon realized as he saw for himself the anguish and despair in Anaire's troubled eyes. Death, death of any kind tormented her with the darkness. As soon as his eyes rested on her pale face, her thin form--- his heart cried out in sympathy with hers. His eyes met Legolas's own concerned ones; he did not have to ask permission to approach Anaire, Legolas gave it to him, stepping aside for Elrohir. It was all he could do to keep the emotion from ringing out in his voice as he called to her, "Anaire."  
  
She turned around; the voice was not Legolas's. Her grey eyes met Elrohir's sky orbs. "Elrohir," she whispered softly as she slid off the wall as he ran toward her, holding her fiercely into his arms. As tightly as he held her, she held him equally as hard. When his arms wrapped around her waist, she placed her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulders finally able to close her eyes. "Elrohir..."  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Sorry that it's been so long since an update. I tend to get unenthusiastic a lot about stories. Reviews definitely help (they've helped revived stories from 6 months w/o updating and I actually FINISHED it! So it is possible). Hint hint, please review? So how do you like the parts the elves are playing? How do you like Anaire?! 


	14. Arc 2: Cages Made Cages Broken

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
PLEASE review, PRETTY PLEASE?  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! The awesome author of Sarlisse! (which I beta!)  
  
~  
  
14: Cages Made; Cages Broken (March 19, 2003 to March 21, 2003)  
  
It was late in the night when Elrohir emerged from the room that Anaire was staying in. For many long hours, he had held her until she had fallen into a fitful slumber marred by her nightmares of her past. He had thought those demons that haunted her had long since passed, but that hope was too optimistic. They did not know how long she'd been in the hands of the orcs; they only knew it had been for quite a time. It was with perceptive eyes that his twin asked him, "You did not tell her, did you?"  
  
Elrohir shook his head. "No, she was not ready to hear of anything," he murmured softly. "What she needed was for someone to hold her. Perhaps, tomorrow."  
  
"Tomorrow it will have to be," Elladan stated firmly. "Estel wants to ride through the Path of the Dead and call the Army of the Dead. I have already told him that we would ride with him together with his Dunedain."  
  
The widening of Elrohir's eyes did not escape his twin. "That is folly."  
  
"Every option that is possible to overturn the tide that is Sauron's is necessary," Elladan replied resolutely. "Gandalf has agreed to this as well. The rightful king can raise the army, and Estel is the rightful king. In this, he can prove and save his people. Yes, ours is the Last March, but do we dare underestimate Mordor?"  
  
"Is Anaire to go?" Elrohir inquired instead. That was his utmost concern, for if Aragorn was going there was no doubt that the Fellowship was to follow the heir of men. In his anxiety for Anaire, he did not think that she was ready to bear another burden. Seeing the living die was hard enough for her, but to see the dead raised? He did not know how she would take that. Besides that, her wrist was fractured. "She is injured."  
  
"I know," Elladan responded. "She is not to go. Estel says we ride out tomorrow at the break of dawn and leave her here. She is not the only one that he worries about that will want to ride with us. The niece of Theoden has the heart of a lioness he says. Of course, that means you will have to depart without saying farewell and you still have Haldir's plight that you must give to her."  
  
He had almost forgotten about the ring. His hand went instinctively to the pocket that he'd placed it in and took it out to gleam in the dim firelight. "I will say goodbye to her and give the ring to her," he murmured softly. "I cannot leave without giving her word of my departure. You know that Elladan."  
  
"I know. She will want to go," Elladan warned. "You cannot let her go. You must not give into her. Staying with the women and children at Helm's Deep will be best for her. When we ride to the Path of the Dead, Theoden will ride out to Gondor with what is left of his men. They will meet with the Steward of Gondor and ride with them to assault Sauron."  
  
"Why not wait?" Elrohir questioned aloud.  
  
Elladan placed his hands on his brother's shoulders. "We cannot wait, the Eye of Sauron must be turned away from the ringbearer. According to Mithrandir, Frodo has yet to fall. You know the power of the White Wizard, what he speaks of is truth. If we are foolhardy enough to attack Mordor head-on, he will think that we have the One Ring--- that is why we are foolish enough to want to attack--- it has given us the confidence and the arrogance and the foolishness to think that we can overpower Mordor."  
  
"Thus, Mordor will be emptied in the attempt to regain the One Ring that he thinks we have," Elrohir finished with full understanding. The confirming nod that Elladan gave to him was not necessary. "We leave tomorrow at dawn's arrival. I promised to give the ring to Anaire and I will."  
  
~  
  
Preparations of the Rohirrim that were heading to Gondor and the Dunedain that were following Aragorn to the Path of the Dead busied the morning with furious and frantic activity that kept the minds of those occupied from thinking of what awaited them. Legolas had greatly accepted the lembas that Elladan and Elrohir had thoughtfully tossed to him. They'd eaten what was left of the elvish bread days ago. And nothing filled an elf's stomach like lembas.  
  
Though he was going to miss her riding next to him, Legolas was keenly glad that she wasn't going with them to where the Dead rested but did not really rest. That was sure to terrify her; her poor soul could not take anymore of this war. At least safe here in Helm's Deep, hopefully the war would not reach her again. Here, she was going to be safe and secure--- sheltered from the battles that sparked her nightmares to reoccur.  
  
It was unfortunate that he was not going to be able to say farewell to her. That was the one thing he regretted. He sighed and tightened the sack that contained his food and water supply before placing it onto his mount. With grace and agility, he easily pushed himself onto his horse and lowered a hand for Gimli to grab onto for leverage up. Those that were lighter were riding double back to compensate for the lack of riding horses. Though in Gimli's case, he wasn't a good enough rider to keep up the pace that they were going to need to go; thus, Legolas had offered kindly to let the dwarf ride with him.  
  
"Do not even think of holding me like you do Anaire," Gimli warned gruffly. "I am no elven maiden for you to put your hands on!"  
  
It was Gimli's attempt to get the grim expression off of Legolas's face. It half succeeded. "That is obvious," Legolas retorted, his eyes showing a bit more life to them and less like he was lost somewhere else. "You have neither the height nor the lack of weight to be an elven maiden!"  
  
With good-humor, Gimli guffawed at that. It was true: he was shorter and stouter than Anaire. But that truth was true in regards to dwarf maids, they were shorter and stouter than he! He almost shuddered at the thought; it was terrible to think of at times. But then again when he remembered the lock of hair that the Golden Lady had given to him, and he recalled her ethereal beauty--- that horrible thought of the beauty that dwarven women lacked was forgotten.  
  
It was as he was stroking the tresses that Galadriel had gifted him that he saw Anaire with a tall, darkly handsome elven male that was looking quite distraught with her. "Legolas, who is that?" Gimli questioned. "One of her upset suitors?"  
  
That caught Legolas's attention quickly. He'd been spending the time trying to get the memories in his mind of her out of his head, unsuccessfully. His keen ears picked up nothing of what she was saying, but everything that Elrohir was speaking of. It was when Gimli nudged him that he remembered that the dwarf had asked who the elf with Anaire was, "That is Elrohir, son of Elrond."  
  
Elrohir grabbed her by her uninjured arm and pulled her to him. "You cannot go!" he cried out desperately, aware that the eyes of hundreds of men were on them. It was not that their display of emotion was odd for elves, it was strange for it be seen by beings other than elves. It had been in their decorum to appear above the rest. "Anaire, listen to me! Think of Haldir."  
  
Haldir? He would never ask me to stay and be useless, she threw back that thought at him. I am fine. I have one good arm left, let me use it to aid you. Elrohir, I am no use here. Would you have me trapped in a cage like they have done to Eowyn? That made Elrohir close his eyes, he remembered the desperation in that mortal woman's eyes as she had been shut into her room. I have been locked away before, do not make me suffer through that again.  
  
It was that that she sent to him a powerful image of her, a younger and tender version of her being trapped in a pit by the orcs in a dark, shadowy place with hardly a gleam of light. What light there was mixed so well with the darkness that it was barely considered light at all. If he had been in her circumstances at that age, he did not know how he'd have managed. "You are injured," he pleaded with her. "It is better for you here. And I think Haldir would want you to be safe, his mind has changed."  
  
Haldir has never changed since the day that I have first known him, she replied with surety. He is like a mallorn, straight and consistent.  
  
"He is not a mallorn," Elrohir responded softly, taking her hand and flipping it over. Into her palm he placed a mithril ring and whispered delicately, "For would a mallorn love an elf maiden? No. I think you know what the symbolism of this ring means, Anaire."  
  
Her forefinger traced over the inscription on the ring delicately before she read what was engraved: amin mela lle, nin istelile. Once she was done reading it with her eyes, her lips read it for themselves. It was as her lips mouthed the last word that she dropped the ring onto the stone floor. What seemed like an eternity, she stared down at the ring she had let slipped out of her hands. Why now? Why at this moment had he decided to say something?  
  
It was something she did not want to confront when other things haunted her. Too much to deal with, not enough strength in her soul to handle it. But he had given it to her, so what was she to do? It was only a second really after she had dropped the ring that she had stooped to pick it up. When her finger touched the ring, her mind flashed to a scene she had once seen before:  
  
Her mother had dropped her ring that her father had given to her mother many, many years ago. In desperation, she had tried to reach the ring that had slipped through her fingers, which annoyed her captors, her attackers. They screamed vile and nasty words at her that hurt her ears, but she would not allow the ring to be lost. It was more than a symbol of their plight; it was the emblem of their love. It was as her hand rested on the ring that her throat was slit and a sword sliced deeply into her heart.  
  
That had been the first vision she had ever had of the future. When she had first had that foresight, she had been terrified and had woken up to many tears where her parents had had to comfort her back to sleep. She had been too young then to understand it. It had felt like she'd been in that vision herself, though it was clearly her mother's face she saw. The pain that reverberated in her mother had been the same emotions that had coursed through her.  
  
Was that how her mother had died? "Anaire," Elrohir murmured fervently, holding her tightly, "tell me what you saw. You saw something, I know it." Her eyes had gone cloudy and dazed as she had looked beyond what was physically present. It was the same look that Galadriel had when she had one of her visions. What is it?"  
  
I saw my mother's death, I think.  
  
Those few words said enough as he held her tightly, compassion and sympathy pouring from his heart to hers. "The past is over," he whispered fiercely toward her. "Think only of the future, Haldir loves you as much as one can love. Do not worry, Galadriel and Celeborn approve, especially Celeborn."  
  
I miss, Adar. Adar, adar, adar, she cried out. She did not know if she cried for Celeborn or her nameless true father, if not both. As her heart ached for the warmth of Celeborn's soothing comfort, she allowed Elrohir to pacify the dark storm that raged within her. Adar.  
  
"He misses you," Elrohir stated gently. "They both do. They send their love."  
  
Anaire nodded, that she knew. That, of course, she knew. Let me go.  
  
"No," he answered sharply, "I will not let you go."  
  
Let me go.  
  
"No," he replied fiercely. "Do not make me have to lock you into a cage like Eowyn. You have even more of a reason to stay than she; you are injured. You must get well. The wrist that is hurting is the one that you use the most. If you do not rest it, it will only cripple the bone. Stay here," he pleaded, "soon Haldir and Celeborn will be here."  
  
It was useless arguing with Elrohir. He was even more stubborn than Arwen. Drawing away from him, she lifted her hand up to his cheek and stroked it gently before dropping her hand limply to her side. In the other hand, she held the promise ring. As she stared down at the ring that she held in her hand, she knew that if she wore it--- she was forever bound to Haldir. If she gave it back to Elrohir, that bind would be severed. If she kept it and did not wear it, that she remained undecided but in favor of Haldir. What did she do?  
  
Legolas knew the symbolism of the ring. It was with a heavy heart that he had watched Elrohir hand the ring to Anaire and heard her brother tell her that the approval of her adopted parents were with Haldir's suit. Why would it not be? True, Haldir was no Prince, but he was a well-known and well-respected Elf known from all parts. More than that, Haldir loved her and knew her. The March Warden had been with Anaire for hundreds of years, what was a few days compared to that? Nothing. Nothing at all.  
  
His breath was caught in his throat when he saw Anaire glance up at him. He was no mind reader, but he knew why she looked at him the way that she did. She was asking him, inquiring of him his thoughts on the matter, on the ring. Was he to give his consent? He stared into her eyes for a moment before turning away and urging his horse forward. No. He was not going to. He wanted her as well.  
  
That was the first time he had actually moved away from her. She had done that to him more times than she could recall. It made her feel strange to be ignored when she was the one that normally did the avoiding. So she was not going to say goodbye to him. So be it. She gazed at his back momentarily before dropping her eyes back down to the ring that she held in her hands. Amin mela lle, nin istelile. I love you, my silverstar. Love? What was love? Love...  
  
Her hand clenched around the ring, but she did not put on. More thought was needed. More self-searching required. Be safe, Elrohir. Her brother, her protector, her savior nodded and gave her one last squeeze before letting her drift from his arms. Do you still carry the phial that I gave to you some time ago? He nodded and reached into one of the little fastening and pulled out the crystal bottle. My enchantments were never up to Galadriel's standards, but in those phials I poured what I had in me into them. When you feel darkness grow, use what is in it--- there is light.  
  
"I will remember," Elrohir promised. "Farewell, nin muinthell." (my sister)  
  
"Farewell, Elrohir."  
  
~  
  
Night had fallen. The Fellowship, the Dunedain, and the twin sons of Elrond were on their way to the Path of the Dead. Preparations for the Rohirrim's departure to Gondor were under way. It was with stealth and wisdom that they had decided to depart at night fall. The last of the supplies were being packed; the final farewells being given from the womenfolk to their men.  
  
In the cage that Eowyn feared, her room, was were she sat with Anaire. Together, they had not said more than a few words. All they did was practice their weaponry, though Eowyn made sure to watch for Anaire's weak wrist. She never let the elf maiden use that wrist, forcing Anaire to strengthen the skill with her left arm. It worked. All morning and all day that they had practiced had given to Anaire relative skill with her healthy wrist.  
  
It was during one of the interval breaks that Eomer knocked on the door. "You may come in," Eowyn called to her brother. When he entered into the room, his eyes widened a bit at seeing the swords that laid on the tables and the disarray that the room was in. "We have been practicising," she declared, "for when we ride to Gondor."  
  
"You know," Eomer responded, "that Theoden wants you to stay with the women and children. Who is to protect them if you are not here? Who is to lead them? Tell me that, Eowyn!"  
  
"Tell me, Eomer," his sister retorted, "how am I to protect them when none are warriors? What leading do they need? Without direction, they aided the men. Without guidance, they organized themselves. They will be fine here! If Rohan meets Gondor's call for aid, if we ride and give them all our strength--- do you know think that Mordor will reach the Mark again? I think not. Not if we do all we can. I can fight, Eomer. You know I can; you were the one that taught me."  
  
"Still," Eomer replied, "I am not the King, Theoden is. He wants you to stay and to be safe. It is not unlike what I want. Who would not want their sister to be secure? Only a foolish man. You have never seen the real battlefield. But Anaire has, has she told you of how she is haunted? Have you seen the darkness, the inherent evil that is in the bloodshed? It is terrible, Eowyn!"  
  
"I know what it is like, Eomer. I have seen the tears and the madness for myself of what it does. But I can help, I know that I can. I am not alone, Anaire wants to ride with me, with Rohan to Gondor."  
  
"Anaire is not to go; Aragorn has said so. You are not go by Theoden's command and my own," Eomer declared vehemently, staring down at the intensity in his sister's flashing eyes. "It is for the both of your safety!"  
  
"I have waited on faltering feet long enough!" she cried out. "Since they falter no longer, it seems may I not spend my life as I will? Shall I always be chosen? Shall I always be left behind when the Riders depart? To mind the house while they win renown and find food and beds when they return? All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men had died in battle and honor, you have leave to burn in the house for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield a blade, and I do not fear either pain or death."  
  
"What I said is final!" With that exclamation, Eomer strode out of the room without pausing for a glance at Eowyn's passionate expression. He slammed the door shut and leaned heavily against the wall outside of her room. His stubborn, stubborn sister! What was he going to do? Did she not understand? She was the only family that he had left! He sighed and took a deep breath before heading toward his duties, there was still much to prepare before it was time to leave for Gondor.  
  
The passion in Eowyn's face had not subsided. If something was not done to calm Eowyn's fire, it'd turn into uncontrollable fury. It was nearly there as it was. Placing gentle hands on Eowyn's strained shoulders, Anaire bent her head down and whispered, "Fate cannot be stopped." That caught Eowyn's full attention. Anaire's physical voice was hard to ignore. It sounded otherworldly.  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Eowyn inquired, her eyes filled with her fiery energy. "Fate cannot be stopped?"  
  
Making contact with Eowyn's fiery eyes, she stated with full assurance, If what is meant to be is meant to be, then it will be. You want to go; he does not want you to go. But I know that you will still go, will you not? I can sense it inside of you. Your desire and your longing. I feel this moment decides your destiny.  
  
Eowyn nodded. "It will," she agreed. "I am leaving tonight when they let me out of this cage to treat the injured. I know a secret side path that I can take that will lead us to the very back of the Riders. Will you go with me? I sense the same yearning in your heart that is in mine."  
  
I will, Anaire responded holding the hand that Eowyn held out to her. If we leave tonight, we must prepare.  
  
"Not over prepare," Eowyn warned. "They will be suspicious. Pack what nourishment you can in the healing sacks that will seem noticeable. I will try to hide what weapons I can within our cloaks. Before we leave, I will wrap your wrist--- do not forget you are still injured. If you do not use your arm for a few more days, it will be best. I know you dislike the sword, but it is the only weapon you can wield."  
  
Then wield it, I will.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Sorry that it's been so long since an update. I tend to get unenthusiastic a lot about stories. Reviews definitely help (they've helped revived stories from 6 months w/o updating and I actually FINISHED it! So it is possible). Hint hint, please review? So how do you like the parts the elves are playing? How do you like Anaire?! 


	15. Arc 2: Journey to Gondor

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
PLEASE review, PRETTY PLEASE?  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! The awesome author of Sarlisse! (which I beta!)  
  
~  
  
15: Journey to Gondor (March 23, 2003 to April 1, 2003)  
  
It took longer than either of them had expected to make their getaway from Helm's Deep. Things had definitely gotten worse when they found not a horse left in the stabling area. It seemed they were going to have to catch up to the Rohan riders by feet, an almost impossible task. But if it had to be done, they were going to do it. Their minds were made up; their energies were focus on one goal--- to do what was thought unfeasible.  
  
Both of them set themselves up for the punishing cross country run. It was going to harsh going uphill, but it was their only prayer of making headway into the blinding speed of which the Rohirrim were traveling with their swift horses. They were about to start off when they noticed a figure cursing his luck, since he wasn't able to get his mount to budge a step. Upon closer inspection, Anaire was surprised to see a vaguely familiar figure.  
  
She wasn't the only one as Merry quickly withdrew his small sword gifted to him by Galadriel when he heard Eowyn's blade sliding out of its sheath. His eyes widened and his voice shouted, "Anaire! What are you doing here?" At the back of her mind, she was reminded that Merry had arrived with Gandalf--- that she'd seen him from the distance. But she hadn't been focusing too hard on what had happened after the battle, unfortunately.  
  
The same can be asked of you, she remarked wryly. She didn't recall much of what had been going on recently; she did remember him lobbying with Theoden in the great hall to be allowed to accompany the Rohirrim to Gondor's aid. Theoden had refused him. You can lower your weapon, Eowyn. Merry is a hobbit not a different breed of orc.  
  
It was only with her soothing encouragement that Eowyn resheathed her sword and relaxed her battle stance. "I know that he is not an orc. I am not completely without eyes, Anaire." She immediately regretted her outburst when the elf maiden looked at her with an effortless calm expression. But she knew better; she'd seen Anaire lose it before. "Do not tell me you were on guard, I saw you grab the handle of your sword with your right hand. Remember your wrist is injured."  
  
We need to move forward, Eowyn, Anaire reminded her purposely. Also, elves heal fast. My wrist will not be bothering me much longer; it will be fine by tomorrow. You forget that elves are not like men; we are different people.  
  
Eowyn nodded and grabbed the reins of the stubborn horse. She knew this old warhorse quite well; this mount had once served her cousin, Theodred, in battle with valor and honor. Swinging up easily onto the stout gelding, Eowyn lowered her hand to help Anaire slide up behind her. When they were both settled in their seats, they reached down to grab Merry up onto the horse as well. Luckily despite the seasons this horse had seen, the gelding still had energy and strength that belied his age as long as the rider knew how to ride.  
  
Clicking her tongue to urge their mount forward, she put slight pressure one the sides to encourage the old warhorse into a brisk, steady canter. As the wind blew against them as if it were trying to slow them, they only bent their heads and tried to be as still as possible as not to burden their beast anymore than necessary. They continued to push forward for that was the only thing that was left for them to do--- to endure the path they had taken--- to push onward.  
  
~  
  
He hadn't known how much he'd been looking forward to seeing Anaire again until he knew that it'd be more time until he saw her once more. It didn't surprise him that he desperately wanted to see her, to know her answer to his proposal--- what slightly shocked him was that it was a stabbing pain to have to wait to see her even if it was only a few more days. It was definitely going to be a few more days; their battle with the orcs at the edge of forests had delayed them too much.  
  
But Lorien was safe. At least, it was for now. The battle had taken only a few hours, but burying the dead had taken two days--- according to the women that manned the gates of Helm's Deep, all the warriors had left. One continent with the Dunedain and two messenger elves had gone on the Path of the Dead; the rest of what was left of Rohan's strength had left to come to Gondor's aid.  
  
The news was a deep blow to him. He had ridden up to Helm's Deep expecting to see Anaire again. Instead, he was riding back frantically to the main body of the elven army to have them turn their direction--- the battle at Helm's Deep had already happened and had with the resistance of men been won. From the distance that he still was, he signaled at the elves that rode at the forefront of the army, telling them to turn around.  
  
They stopped, but they didn't change their direction. No doubt, they were waiting for him before they did anything. Before Celeborn could ask him why he was asking them to turn around and head in the opposite direction, Haldir explained urgently, "Rohan has already left for Gondor. We arrived too late. Aragorn has headed to the Path of the Dead with Elladan and Elrohir. He's undoubtedly gone with the Fellowship. They left before the Rohirrim. The only option we have is to try to catch the Riders."  
  
Celeborn nodded, that was the logical route. If the Fellowship had gone with Aragorn, he at least had the confidence in the heir of men to keep his daughter safe. There had to be faith in men, Arwen was right. If there was a mortal being to have trust in, it was Aragorn. There was nothing left to do but to follow the path that was left for them to take.  
  
"We ride to Gondor!" he exclaimed to the elves nearest him with more energy than he felt. He was not the only elf that was trying to encourage the group around him, Elrond and Thranduil were doing the same with the elves of their contingent. His heart was uplifted when he saw the grim determination in Haldir's face as his March Warden rode quickly to the front of the pack, pushing forward despite the disappointment.  
  
No, his ability to feel, to be empathetic was nothing compared to Galadriel's or Anaire's, but he had not lived thousands of years to not know the emotions coursing through Haldir's face. It was easy for him to read the frustration that Anaire was thought to be so close, only to be much farther than at first thought. Indeed, he felt the same let down feeling. But there were things that he could do accept move forward. He felt like that was what Anaire would have wanted. For her, he'd do anything. She was his daughter.  
  
~  
  
Ever since mid-afternoon the land had been cast into the shadows. The signs were obvious and clear--- Mordor was continuing to gain strength, this was the visible warning. While it perturbed the riders of Rohan, it didn't frighten them. Darkness was nothing to fear when they had come close to losing their homes, their families--- their whole world. No, riding in the shadows didn't do much, other than to be a continued reminder of their purpose.  
  
As the day turned into night, the darkness only grew. While Eowyn had no problem with the dimness, Merry and Anaire did. For Merry, it was that he disliked the dark while for Anaire, it reminded her too much of the dark pit she had been put in by her orc captors. The flood of recall overwhelmed her with its horrible image and caused her to start shaking heavily, uncontrollably.  
  
"Don't think of it!" Eowyn exclaimed. "Think of something else. Think of the elf, who gave you the ring. Think of anything but what you are thinking of!"  
  
Haldir. Yes, what Eowyn spoke of was wise despite her lack of years and inexperience. Anaire reached into the pocket where she kept the ring and drew it out to hold it in her palm of her hand momentarily before slipping it back for safe keeping. How she wished Haldir was here, he always knew what to say and to do to uplift her downtrodden spirits. Then again if she saw him again, she'd have to give him an answer. Suddenly, she dreaded seeing him.  
  
"Put your hood on," Eowyn hissed as she pulled her own over her head when she spotted a small group of men riding toward them. "From what I can see, those colors are Gondor's."  
  
"Well see in this darkness," the obvious leader of the men commented from what he was able to catch as he approached them against the whistling of the wind. "We are of Gondor, the question is of whence you travelers came."  
  
"Rohan," she answered in as deep of a voice she was able to muster. "We are from Rohan."  
  
"Stragglers and misfits," one of the other men remarked, "for the Rohirrim arrived several hours ago."  
  
"We were separated from the main group," Eowyn quickly explained. "Will you give us safe passage through your lands so that we may rejoin our people?"  
  
The man that had challenged then retorted sharply, "How do we know who you say you are?"  
  
Before Eowyn was given the chance to protest the leader interrupted both of them before a conflict broke out. "Stop," he stated as he moved his horse closer to Eowyn's mount, "the horse is clearly of Rohan breed, but a mount can be stolen. But you have no reason to lie because Rohan is heading into the battlefield. There is no doubt you came to fight with the arms that you carry." He nodded toward the swords on their belts. "Gondor certainly needs all men that are capable of fighting as can be found."  
  
Having said that, he offered her a brief smile before gesturing with his hand for them to follow behind him. While they had wandered into the reaches of the Gondor patrol, they were still miles away from the encampment were the armies of Gondor and Rohan were waiting patiently for the battle that was to soon commence and for other allies to arrive. The long road was still not through; there was still much more to come.  
  
~  
  
Only the heir of men could call upon the Army of the Dead and when Aragorn did this deed, hope was restored that this army of the living dead would aid in the defeat of Mordor. Yes, the skeleton of men could be broken into pieces and shattered until no longer able to fight, but they were no longer living and therefore it was no loss. It was only a great gain that real men would not be dying.  
  
The pressure he had felt on his shoulders had been lifted once he saw the power that he wielded because of his bloodline and because of his own heart. It had been hard to believe that this day would come, the day that he would lay claim on the throne of both Arnor and Gondor and become the King of Men. The desire for power and wealth had never been the drive behind his actions. Never.  
  
There'd been responsibility and duty; there'd been Arwen. Though the breathtaking Undomiel was not the sole reason for him to fulfill his glorious fate, she was an integral factor. It had been her father and his adopted caretaker that had charged him with the task of uniting Arnor and Gondor by reigning over as King if he wished to wed his precious daughter, the Evenstar of her people. But since his childhood in Elrond's care, there had always been the emphasis on who he was and what he could be if he so chosed.  
  
His choice had been made before he had ever laid eyes on Arwen, but once he had come to know her--- he wanted to be all and more than what he was for her. Elrond's declarative command gave him the added encouragement that enthused him onward. Now, he was here with the possibility of the prophecy being fulfilled so very close. He had raised an army of dead and was sailing toward Gondor to save his people and Middle Earth.  
  
What filled him with more strength was when Elladan and Elrohir had unfurled the banner Arwen had made with her dedication and love. It was Arwen's unfailing and unconditional belief in him that had carried him through all his hardships and struggles. As he glanced from the proud wave of the flag, he saw he wasn't the only one admiring it--- Elladan and Elrohir were as well.  
  
While Aragorn was thinking of Arwen, Elladan's and Elrohir's were directed toward their other sister, Anaire. "She has a different feel about her. She has changed," Elladan commented, his expression thoughtful and musing. "She seems less distant and more emotional in her way."  
  
Elrohir's facial emotions were equally filled with contemplation and thought. "She has opened up. It is like she has found herself in this place, in this journey."  
  
"Or someone that brings that out of her," Elladan added. "What does that mean for Haldir, especially since he has plighted his troth to her?" He paused to gaze intently at his twin, trying to discern Elrohir's feelings. "What do you think?"  
  
"I think that Haldir will accept Anaire's changes better than anyone else," Elrohir murmured. "He has been there from the beginning and has observed all the steps of metamorphosis she has been through. He definitely loves her unconditionally. It is a pity it has taken him more than two hundred years to realize it."  
  
Elladan nodded solemnly, letting Elrohir's analysis sink in fully. "Do you think there is anything between Legolas and Anaire?"  
  
A moment of hard reflection was needed by Elrohir to make an informed response, "I think that Legolas has feelings for her, but I am not so certain about her. I am sure that his feelings are not as deep as Haldir's yet. There is this acceptance of her for Legolas, that is impressive given that he is associated with Mirkwood and that was an ugly episode for her. It takes time for her to build a relationship with anyone.  
  
"I think that Legolas reminds her of Haldir. They are, to a degree, similar. Both are leaders; both are warriors; both want to protect her and care for her," he observed insightfully. "I could be wrong. I cannot read minds. I do not even think that anyone can really guess at Anaire with entire accuracy. She's a mystery; she'll always be like that. There was a time when I did not think she belonged here, but now she seems like she does."  
  
"Yes, she has definitely changed."  
  
~  
  
There was a mad agony and anguish that overwhelmed Eowyn, Anaire, and Merry as they slipped into the battle encampment as hundreds of wounded men of Gondor were brought into the tents where healers did their best to staunch the blood and deliver the dying from death. The grim and the stench was enough to nauseate the strongest of stomachs. It was with much relief when they passed the place of healing and ventured off to the fires of those that were filled with the desire to enter into battle.  
  
"MOVE ASIDE!" cried out a bloody man of Gondor as he cleared through the journey weary men so that his captain could be rushed to the healers. The situation was desperate and Eowyn saw that the man was caked in blood, his life supply having drained until there was nothing much left to spill out of the grievous wound. She was tempted to help the man, but Anaire stopped her. There were others that were better capable than she.  
  
As the three of them shuffled back to make room for the stretcher to pass by them, it was obvious that this injured man was important. It was only later when they had settled into their camp for the night after getting what gear and armor they could that they discovered that the wounded man was Faramir, son of Denethor. It'd been decided by the three of them that it was wiser for them to blend in with those from Gondor rather than try to slip unnoticed into the Rohan camp where the chance of recognition was far too great.  
  
It was at the outer edges of this camp that they heard a great stirring as they saw Gandalf's arrival from Isengard to rally the forces of the good people of Middle Earth against the evil intentions of Mordor. They were careful not to get too close to the gathering for the fear that Theoden, Eomer, or even Gandalf might recognize them. But they stayed within hearing range as Gandalf sought to rally their spirits to the confrontation that was nearing.  
  
"We must rally to battle Mordor!" Gandalf exclaimed, his voice not filled with a battle frenzy but the acceptance that this was the only choice that they had to take. "We have no other course that can be taken. What reason to foolishly push Sauron's hand? What else other than to take his Eye off of the Ringbearer? That is why this battle must be waged; this is what must be done. The focus must be taken off the Ringbearer. If the One Ring falls into the hand of Sauron, everything will be lost."  
  
"What Gandalf speaks of is true," Eomer spoke up, seeking to rally the men as much as to put the support of his words behind the wizard that had saved them. "The longer that we wait for Sauron, the stronger he becomes as he continues to build his forces and armies up. This is our best chance, we have destroyed the danger of Isengard... they are the weakest they have been in a long time. If we make use of our advantage, we have the chance. Especially since Aragorn has attempted to raise the Army of Dead and as we speak, an Elven army is marching toward us to renew old alliances."  
  
While Denethor was present at the informal War Council, he was only there for appearance because ever since news of Boromir's death he had declined disastrously. The additional news of Faramir's failing condition tipped the balance into the wrong direction, breaking the fragile hold that the Steward of Gondor still held over his unsteady mind. Indeed, he was prone to rambling on incoherently or bursting out into a frenzy of mad activity. Much of this was attributed to the fact that he knew he had been the one that had put Faramir directly into the line of danger.  
  
The foolish mission that he had sent his last and in his thoughts his lacking son to defend Osgiliath was a death sentence. It was after he had sent Faramir to that death trap that he had begun to have awful foreboding about it. Despite being semi-delusional, it was no excuse that he didn't know that Faramir was almost certain to die, but he had underestimated the steel and virtue in his younger son. For a brief moment, he saw that even though Faramir wasn't like him and Boromir--- Faramir was still a worthy son. That thought faded as it has to for Denethor to maintain what was left of his sanity.  
  
All that came crashing into oblivion as he had watched his nearly dead son being carried to the house of healing. Everything had fallen apart. Not only was he going to lose the last of his bloodline to continue on the line of the Stewards of Gondor, he was losing his lands--- the remnants of a kingdom that he deserved to reign over. The thought that this was all ending muted him from speaking; he was barely listening, if he was even capable of that anymore.  
  
With Denethor gone crazy and Faramir near death, the proud people of Gondor turned to the Prince of Dol Amroth, Imrahil, to guide and to direct them to their path. He was the logical choice; he was loyal and courageous, a man that had ridden with Boromir and Faramir. Indeed, he was the only choice that was left. Though he was not a young and dashing figure like Eomer or Faramir, he was certainly a capable commander. "Then we will take this course," Imrahil declared valiantly. "We have no other to take, if this is the agreement of all--- Gondor and Dol Amroth will see to it that it is done to the best that it can be done."  
  
The decision was made; the discussion began in earnest on when the attack was to happen. There was much argument. Some were for starting a week from this date to give their allies time to arrive, while others were for pushing forward as soon as possible. The only agreement was that they did need to act. In the end, it was Gandalf who silenced the crowd and spoke, "Tomorrow morning we will launch our attack and show Mordor that we will not sit and wait for him to oppress us. Be ready to fight for all the free folk of Middle Earth!"  
  
Anaire pulled at Eowyn's arm to draw her companion from the view of Eomer, who had been looking at Eowyn briefly as if he had recognized her. They had stayed long enough, it was not good for either Eomer or Theoden to discover their presence here before the battle was waged. The longer that they were here, the more certain Anaire was that this was her destiny. Even more important was that she sensed that Eowyn had to be here, that she was vital to the hope for victory.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Well, this is the chapter I wrote a long time ago, but never bothered to go through the editing that I needed to go through with my beta. Without much ado, here it is. I'm hoping to write part of Pelennor during Easter and if everything falls onto schedule Part 1 and Part 2 of this trilogy will be done. What are the parts? Why Part 1 is Pre- Fellowship, Part 2 is the Fellowship, and Part 3 is Post-Fellowship. Isn't that tidy? The divisions may be even more simpler, but we won't get into that because that'd spoil the story. 


	16. Arc 2: Darkness Looming

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
PLEASE review, PRETTY PLEASE?  
  
~  
  
Thanks, your reviewers are awesome and special thanks to TINGILYE, my beta reader! The awesome author of Sarlisse! (which I beta!)  
  
~  
  
16: Darkness Looming (April 18, 2003 to April 21, 2003)  
  
Everyone was doing something. Eowyn was sharpening her sword; Merry was tending to their food. All around her men were preparing for battle, getting ready for the dawn that was to signal the beginning of the start of a new age or the beginning of the end. Yet, she was the only one that wasn't doing anything. Unlike most cases in which she lost herself in the drowning absorption of her thoughts, this time her attention was directed toward something far more present.  
  
She was tempted to slip the ring on, but she didn't. As she fingered the ring, memorizing every delicate line of the inscription, she felt the urge to put the ring on once more. If this was how the Ringbearer felt, she wondered how he didn't succumb to it when even this unremarkable and un- magical ring had such an affect on her. She didn't need to keep rereading the words, amin mela lle nin istelile, she could feel them on the tip of her finger as she caressed the mithril ring.  
  
"You should put it on," Eowyn murmured softly, having stopped sharpening her blade to watch the loving way that Anaire held and touched the promise ring. She knew she had startled Anaire when the elf maiden glanced up at her, her eyes wide with uncertainty and the fact that she'd been caught in her adoration of the ring. "You will lose it if you don't wear it."  
  
Eowyn was right. But if she wore it, that meant she'd accepted Haldir's troth and she wasn't sure if she was ready to move in that direction. There was no doubt in her mind that Haldir was one of the most important people in her life. That had never been in question, but she didn't want to hurt Haldir by not returning his devotion and love fully when she wasn't ready. And she knew she wasn't quite ready. There were still things she needed to do and experience. And yet, at the same time she couldn't bring herself to place the ring aside. She wanted it near her.  
  
Understanding her predicament, Eowyn reaching into a pack and withdrew a piece of leather cord that she dropped onto Anaire's lap. "Why don't you wear it around your neck?" she suggested lightly. "That way you'll have it near and you won't have to fear losing it, at the same time you won't have to give him an answer yet if he should see it around your finger. But it nevertheless should please his male ego to see you wearing it so close to your heart."  
  
Anaire nodded, her lips actually curved up in a small smile. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully as she threaded the ring with the leather cord and attempted to tie it around her neck securely. When she found she couldn't quite manage, she glanced toward Eowyn apologetically. Will you tie it for me?  
  
Eowyn shared her smile and moved to the elf maiden that she shared so many differences and yet so many similarities. If there was one thing that drew them together was that they were both fighters, survivors. If they made it through this battle alive, Eowyn wanted nothing more than to spend some time practicing their skills, exchanging thoughts, and becoming true friends. "Certainly," she responded.  
  
She took the leather cord and with deft fingers she twisted a secure knot that wouldn't come undone in the middle of battle. That ring was there to stay as it nestled in the hollow of Anaire's throat. Eowyn briefly admired the ring that glistened silver in the dim firelight before she asked the one question that had been plaguing her since Anaire had received the ring. At this moment, it felt right to ask as if something had happened that had brought them closer when Anaire had asked her to help her. "Do you love him?"  
  
It might have been the best time to ask, that still didn't mean that Anaire was inclined to answer. The silence that descended upon them lasted for several long minutes before Anaire decided that she might as well answer Eowyn. I do not know. Anaire didn't know what she expected to see in Eowyn's eyes, but there was no amusement nor reproach. There was only acceptance as if she understood even if as Anaire knew, Eowyn had never truly been in love with a man in that way ever.  
  
"May I give you my opinion?"  
  
Go ahead.  
  
Eowyn rested her hands on both sides of Anaire's shoulders as if to brace her for what she was about to say. "I have never met this Haldir nor have I ever seen you two interact. But when you first received the ring, and when you first dropped the ring, there was something in you that was desperate to regain the ring into your hands. And to see you now, a few moments ago, holding and caressing the ring like it was the most precious thing--- I think that you do love him. Your mind," she touched Anaire forehead, "may not know it, but your heart," she rested her hand near Anaire's heart, "acts on it."  
  
If Eowyn was going to say anymore, she wasn't given the chance because Merry was waving his cooking utensil in the air and gesturing for them to come over and sample the scrumptious soup he had concocted from whatever scraps of food he'd managed to forage for. "Come on!" Merry exclaimed. "You two need to eat if we are to wrestle a victory over Mordor, now!"  
  
The moment was broken, but that did not mean that Anaire did not think of it. Even though she needed more rest than most elves, she still needed far less than Eowyn and Merry. Into the darkness of the night, she thought and thought more of Eowyn's insight. The more she thought of it, the more she had this feeling that Eowyn's aim was true. Perhaps, her heart did know. Yet, her mind did not.  
  
~  
  
"It is time," Eowyn declared, staring up at the gray sky that was beginning to lighten with the coming dawn. "It is time for me to prove that I am no maiden to sit and wait for man to return for I am a Shieldmaiden and I was meant to wield a sword as well as any man."  
  
You do not need to prove yourself, Anaire murmured with a soft voice of certainty. Your skill and your ability was never in question. Your uncle and your brother have full confidence in you, but like any real family they worry for your safety.  
  
"Do you think I do not worry for them?" she cried out. She was about to continue her tirade when she noticed that though Anaire was speaking through her mind, it wasn't truly Anaire that was speaking to her. It was like that Anaire had spoken to her from a higher being that was there to make her see that this battle was not about proving herself, it was more than that. As it should be, for it was the fight for Middle Earth. But then again, maybe it was really Anaire that was speaking. After all, Anaire had this ethereal feeling about her. "I am sorry."  
  
Anaire shook her head and rested her finger over Eowyn's lips. You have nothing to be sorry for. You only spoke what was in your heart. There is nothing wrong with that. She took Eowyn's hand and placed it on the sword sheathed to her side. Right now, you have to fight. You need passion to fight, but if it overwhelms you, it will cloud your vision and corrupt your judgment. That would be disastrous.  
  
As those words left her mouth, she saw that though she was still gazing upon Eowyn, it was no longer the Eowyn that was standing before her that she saw. The Eowyn she glimpse at was bloody and bruised, but there a fire in her eyes to fight until death had robbed of her strength. It was this Eowyn that she saw attack through the battlefield, this Shieldmaiden that was destined for greatness that was beyond great.  
  
"Anaire, are you all right?" Eowyn questioned, her voice threaded with concern as she stared into the unseeing eyes of her friend. She was even more anxious when Anaire stumbled and would have fallen if Eowyn hadn't wrapped her arm around Anaire's waist. "You saw something?"  
  
Anaire nodded and allowed Eowyn to guide her to sit down for a moment so that she could catch her breath. I saw you. Eowyn's eyes widened and when she was sure that she had her full attention, she continued onward, I saw you in the battlefield with blood and bruises, but you were glorious. There was never any doubt in me that this is your path. This is more than a rite of passage. It is your destiny. You are meant to be here because you are going to do something great on these fields.  
  
Hearing Anaire tell her with such conviction what she had always believed inside of herself was an immense relief and confidence builder, it made her feel that anything was possible. "Thank you," she whispered softly, overwhelmed that someone believed in her like Anaire did. To do something great here, who would have thought? "It is nice to know that someone believes in me."  
  
It is not hard, Anaire responded, standing up from where she'd sat down. She fingered Haldir's ring briefly before she tucked it into her shirt. We need to get our gear on. Dawn is fast approaching.  
  
Anaire's warning coincided with the battle horn that was being blown at the center of the field. The last time Anaire had heard that sound was when Boromir had blown it to let them be aware of his position. It had been disastrous for him, did that signal a foreshadowing of doom? She hoped not, but she had this nagging feeling in her gut that something horrible was going to happen at Pelennor, something that was going to affect those close to her. It may not be today or even tomorrow, but it was going to happen.  
  
"Come on, Anaire," Eowyn urged. "Merry is calling for us. We have to get ready. It is about to begin."  
  
Indeed, it was about to begin. More was going to be determined in this battle than victory and defeat. True, the nature of a mêlée was that there was a definitive outcome, but that was not all. Even if they crushed Mordor's forces, that did not mean that Middle Earth saved. It only meant that they delayed the inevitable, especially if Sauron managed to regain his ring. If that happened, no matter the outcome of this skirmish, it was for naught.  
  
And that would be that their sacrifice was for nothing. She'd not let that happened. No, she didn't want the horror she had gone through ever to torment those that meant everything to her. No, she wouldn't let that happened. Vaguely, at the back of her mind, she knew that Eowyn was putting her gear on her and handing her a sword. It was when a bow was placed into her hands that she felt ready, ready to wage the war to end the darkness that was looming.  
  
~  
  
Had it only been a few hours? That was Anaire's thought as she plunged her blade into the gut of an orc, twist and then pulled it back out. It wasn't the prettiest way to get the job done, but it was quite effective. Her arms were getting tired, another concern that crossed her mind as she thrust both swords she was holding into the two enemies that were charging her. Double twist then pull out and she had both lying on the blood covered ground.  
  
"You shouldn't leave yourself open like that!" Eowyn exclaimed as she raised her sword to block the blade that was swinging over Anaire's head. Anaire watched with appreciation as Eowyn turned her sword and easily sliced off the head of the Easterling.  
  
You should talk, Anaire muttered. You take more risks than I do.  
  
Her companion's eyes were twinkling and she glanced down at Merry who was trying to take on three orcs at the same time. "Not as much as Merry," she remarked. "Shall we?" They'd traded aid like this for the past hours, helping and guarding each other's back against the common foe. It was because of this that all three of them were still alive.  
  
Anaire nodded and they both raised their swords, charging to Merry's aid as a new onslaught of the enemy began. Even if the fight was futile, they would persist. If they did not struggle in this struggle, then all was lost anyway. That they would not allow, it was not in them to give up. As much as they wanted to, they wouldn't. Even if there seem to be no end to the armies that poured from Mordor to conquer and vanquish them from the face of this world.  
  
~  
  
The stench of blood was overwhelming, even from the distance that they still were. It would be a precious few hours before they were able to reach the front of the lines and given their renewed Allies a chance to breath against the furious attack that had come from Mordor. Hours until he saw Anaire again. How fraught his nerves were. To see her again and to see what she thought of his betrothal.  
  
A comforting hand rested on his shoulders, when he glanced to his right he saw that it was Celeborn. "You have nothing to be worried about," the Lord of Lorien said soothingly. "I know you are worried about her, but I have confidence that my wife would never send Anaire into danger. She would not allow it to happen, not after Celebrian. And," he added with a knowing glint in his wise eyes, "if there is one elf that Anaire has always depended on for guidance and companionship, it is you."  
  
"My fear is that she is not ready," Haldir murmured. "If she does feel for me, that is."  
  
"She feels for you," Celeborn reassured. "I know she does. Did she not speak to you first? Has her eyes not followed you since she first saw you practicing outside with the young elves you sought to make hardened warriors?" A faint blush appeared on Haldir's cheeks. "She has always looked to you. I must admit, I envy how she wanted to interact with you when I felt I had to force her to be with me at times."  
  
Haldir shook his head vehemently. "She needs you, Lord Celeborn! She needs you more than anyone else. You are her father. You were the only one she had to comfort her in her darkest moments. It was you she leaned on."  
  
Sighing heavily, Celeborn removed his hand from his March Warden's shoulder. "There are times when I think that she does not need anyone, that the strength inside of her is made of something much more than even the strongest reserve of an elven warrior. She survived incredible torture and somehow remained sane. That is a miracle."  
  
Truly, it was. "Do you think I am worthy of her?" It was a question that had plagued his heart for the longest time; it was the reason he hadn't asked for her hand sooner. It was because he didn't think that he was good enough for Anaire, the Istelile of Lorien. She shone like the purest ray of light in such a way that she seemed out of this reality, infinitely surreal.  
  
"That is for her to decide," Celeborn stated firmly. "No one else."  
  
~  
  
"You are thinking of her," Gimli stated the obvious as he looked at Legolas's broodingly reflective face with his caring concern. Ever since they had made for the ships and set sail to the aid of Gondor, there hadn't been much for them to do but to sit and to wait for the coming battle. It left too much time for thought, something that Legolas had taken keenly to. "Are you going to tell her how you feel?"  
  
How could he? He had run from her inquiring eyes when he should have gone to her and confronted her with his feelings for her. Was it love? He was sure that it was. There was no doubt that he felt something in him that burned for her, the question was if she felt that way about him. Even if she hadn't put on Haldir's promise ring, she hadn't exactly rejected the other elf's suit either. Any way he tried to take it, everything was in Haldir's favor.  
  
"I ran away from her when I should not have," Legolas murmured in a weary voice of one that had spent far too much time in contemplation without doing anything about it. "How can I face her when I was the coward that turned away because I feared her rejection?"  
  
"You can never know unless you try," Gimli responded steadfastly. "If you want her, you will have to fight for her." The dwarf's eyes were filled with confidence in Legolas that comforted the Mirkwood Prince. "I did not think that there was quit in you. I had thought you were willing to do whatever was possible to reach the target, the goal. Perhaps, I was mistaken. Maybe you are less resolute and firm than I had begun to think you were. Mayhap, you are like all the other elves, spineless."  
  
Gimli knew what he was doing. He was trying to get Legolas to react, to do something about his thinking. It wasn't like Legolas to stand back and wait for a sign. True, he approached everything logically and methodically, but he wasn't one to let the action come to him. No, the famed elf archer that he had grown to know and to care about was a pursuer of action. He was the one that made the first charge.  
  
It took a moment for Legolas to actually hear Gimli's words and when he did, the rage that swept over him caused him to glare at his dwarven friend and shove him away from him. He didn't take anymore action against his dear comrade because he knew that Gimli was only trying to get him to react and react he did. Even though, he knew Gimli was trying to help him, it still made him furious to think of how he was acting like a scared little elf. He wasn't that! He'd stopped being that many hundred of years ago!  
  
And yet, here he was thinking about Anaire after having fled from her with the fear of the rejection and the thought of not being good enough. True, he'd looked away from her because he wanted her, but he'd also glanced away because he was almost certain that she'd turn him down. It was something that he couldn't bear. Yet, he was sure that was going to happen.  
  
But Gimli's words kept ringing in his ears, that if he didn't try and that if he didn't fight, he wasn't being himself. Well, that was the main idea of Gimli's lecture that he got. The master dwarf did have one thing right, Legolas knew he wasn't the type to give up, so why was he so willing to let Haldir have her? Because, his conscious nagged at him, Haldir's love might be even deeper than his own. It bothered him since it might be true. How could his love, no matter how intense compete with a devotion that was years long?  
  
He didn't know, but he was going to try. He owed himself that. It wasn't like he was stealing her away, he was just going to give her another option. Was that such a wrong thing to do? No, he didn't think so. It wasn't like she'd betrothed herself to Haldir. She was still available as long as she did not put the ring onto her finger. That worried him. Was he already too late? He hoped not.  
  
~  
  
This was Eowyn's element, Anaire observed her comrade in battle when she had a chance to catch her breath. Not only did she have the ability, she had the passion. It was what made her unstoppable on the battlefield. She was simply incredible, a golden ray of light against the hopelessness of the impending darkness. She felt she was more of a burden to Eowyn than a help when her friend blocked a blow that would have been crippling.  
  
"Watch out," Eowyn warned as she gutted the Uruk. "You can't lose focus, Anaire. Not now." It was hard though, so hard to come to terms that everything was over. "Don't think, Anaire. Just fight, just keep going on. It's what we have to do."  
  
Her words snapped Anaire's focus back to where it should have been. She took a deep breath and raised her twin blades to meet the attack of the assaulter, turning her sword to the side to rip the threatening blade away and end the danger. It'd been like this for the entire morning. As she glanced up to see the numbers of their enemy only increase, it was going to be a long afternoon.  
  
~  
  
She knew that her beloved thought that if she had allowed Anaire to accompany the fellowship that there was no danger for their adopted daughter, but she had no idea what awaited her pupil on the battlefields. The further that Anaire traveled away, the harder it was for her to keep watch over her Fanyarelisse. As it was, the Mirror had become vague, only showing Anaire's surroundings or only Anaire herself. She had no idea what was going on, what was happening. She could only have faith in Anaire's abilities to keep her safe.  
  
All that she knew was that she had to let Anaire go. It had been the hardest thing she had had to do since she had let Celebrian go to the Undying Lands. But at least, she knew that Celebrian was going to be happy and safe. She could not say the same thing for Anaire. As much as she wanted to keep her Fanyarelisse at her side, she realized that she could not stop fate. It was Anaire's destiny.  
  
That didn't stop her from being worried, anxious beyond anything. Her concern only increased when the Mirror failed to show her daughter's face. Only a few minutes before she had seen her beloved Celeborn's face as he reassured Haldir about plighting his troth to Anaire. Her husband had sounded so certain, but she wasn't so sure herself. She had seen that Anaire still had yet to slip the ring on. Nothing was certain, not in times like these.  
  
~  
  
"We cannot hold much longer!" Eomer exclaimed as he met each assault by the enemy with his skill and his bravery. "If reinforcements do not arrive, Gondor and Rohan are doomed!"  
  
At Eomer's side, his Uncle Theoden was fighting with as much courage as his nephew. "That is true," he managed to respond when he had a brief respite from attacking. Unlike his young nephew, the length of the fighting had started to wear down on his stamina and strength. "There is no end in sight. As soon as we cut down enough to think that we are starting to have an edge, more of them charge at us."  
  
Glancing at Eomer, Theoden saw that he wasn't the only one that was beginning to lose hope when hope was needed more than anything else. Even Eomer was beginning to feel the strain of the long day of fighting for what end, none knew. Yet, they had to push on and persevere. If they did not, then the end that none knew was going to be certainty. It was hard to think of another end though when a fresh wave of orcs, Uruks, Easterlings, and wargs poured from Mount Doom.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: I finished this during Easter, but I really wanted to finish the entire battle of Pelennor before I started posting. But I'm positively sure now that I won't be rewriting this chapter. I am halfway done with the next chapter, but I'm going to be rewriting a good portion of that one, so I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm going to be going through a passel of AP exams this coming week and the week after with Prom the weekend between so now updates for a while. The 2nd story arc should be finished by Chapter 19 at the most, I'm going to try to do it by Chapter 18 ^_^, but we will see. I can't thank you reviewers enough. You've gotten me through this! Cheers for you! 


	17. Arc 2: The Beginning of the End

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
THANKS TO ALL MY LOYAL REVIEWERS! (and those that have reviewed more than once) ESPECIALLY, to those that have left longer and more insightful reviews, they really do help and this chapter is dedicated to you!  
  
~  
  
Melfwain- my beta reader and I've answered all her questions, but I'm sure you'll be surprised by this!  
  
kataffy8- I'm glad I kept all of you guessing. But guessing time is over ^- ~. My AP exams were fine. Thanks though ^-^.  
  
Iluvenis- Well, no more guessing. There's a reason for everything and I've done a lot of foreshadowing, especially in the last 5 chapters. Everything has been hinting at what's coming. I just hope everyone's prepared.  
  
JadeGoddess- It's very weird how ff.net is all for Legolas and Tolkienonline.com is all for Haldir.  
  
AngelQueen- One of the few Haldir fans lol ^-~ on ff.net. I'm glad you like the Legolas and Gimli scene, it wasn't that easy for me to write. Thanks for you encouragement and you've been a very consistent reviewer! Thanks for your viewpoint on Haldir's ring.  
  
Tara- So many questions! (1) Battle of Pelennor is being fought at the end of chapter 16, all 17, and most of 18. (2) Theoden dies in Pelennor. (3) Eowyn cannot be injured until she has brought down the WitchKing and while Eowyn is an important side character, it's really the elves that take the forefront. Eowyn is the most important human in the story. Faramir has already made a cameo appearance in Chapter 16. (4) Oh another Haldir fan. You'll see the results of who I pick.  
  
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PrincessIlarian- Thanks for your enthusiastic rating, wow 1.0 mil+ nice ^- ~. I hope it's getting better.  
  
shieldmaidenofrohan- More Eowyn butt kicking in this chappie.  
  
Iluvien- You've reviewed since the very beginning, you kept me going! Thank you! Eh the conversations that are blank well, they're a mistake. ^_^;; Somehow they don't show up on tolkienonline.  
  
Nienna_Telrunya- Yay! Thanks for saying it's improving!  
  
Lady_Shinigami- I'll admit I'm fonder of Elrohir & Haldir more in this story than Legolas. Let's just say that the way I write Haldir is a lot different than "typical" Haldir.  
  
PrincessofNumenor- O-o You are going to blow a vein when you finish reading this chapter.  
  
angel_elf & lady_of_rings- Thanks! ^_^;; So much support.  
  
~  
  
17: The Beginning of the End (April 21, 2003 to April 25, 2003, rewritten: May 11, 2003 to May 16, 2003)  
  
Hope was almost lost when hope became renewed. The simultaneous help that came from the sea and the land bolstered their failing faith. But their wandering brothers, the Dunedain had come to fight by their side. And yet, maybe the greatest aid that they received was the otherworldly presence of an old friend that came to renew old alliances. Aragorn, the true King of Men and the last of the elves had come to see Gondor and Middle Earth through to the end of their strength.  
  
~  
  
When the elves had finally glimpse at the battle to determine the fate of Middle Earth, they knew instantly they had come too late. One of the large strengths of the elven army was their ability to work together and drive arrows with punishing speed into the enemies that cut their ranks far quicker than any other method. Their late arrival meant that were not going to have a chance to use that tactic.  
  
Instead, the elves discarded their bows and arrows as it would only encumber them as they split into three main groups. The largest group quickly launched themselves into battle to help Gondor and Rohan push back Mordor. The next largest group set up ground next to the human healers and helped tend to the wounds of those that could be saved. The smallest group led by Haldir was off to find Anaire for he knew that it wasn't only his wish to have Anaire safely next to him, it was also Celeborn's. The Lord of Lorien knew that his March Warden would give his life to protect his beloved.  
  
It was with a wistful smile that he saw the standard of Arwen on Aragorn's ship bearing toward them. He with his small and loyal group of Galadhrim made haste speed toward the ships. He had this nagging feeling that she wasn't with them, but she had been a part of the Fellowship and this was where she should be. He brushed the feeling aside and charged toward the ship where the Dunedain were pouring out and overwhelming the forces of Mordor.  
  
The shock of surprise on the faces of the orcs, Uruks, and Easterlings was exactly the response Aragorn had hoped for. It had been a stroke of brilliant luck when they had managed to demolish the orcs that were intending to offer reinforcements to those already battling at Pelennor. With the Army of the Dead on his side, they had sent the orcs into the hell hole that they deserved. Having done what had been promised years ago, Aragorn had then released them from their duty. What they had done was enough to let them finally rest in peace. Hope was renewed.  
  
"Where is she?" Haldir asked with a sharp voice as cut down several Uruks and Easterlings that stood in his way to get to Elladan and Elrohir. With the puzzled look they gave him, his frustration and irritated came out with a fury in his displeased tone, "She was not waiting at Helm's Deep. They said she had left! Care to tell me the meaning of that?"  
  
Elrohir's face went pale as he sliced off the head of an orc neatly. "She did not leave with us."  
  
Elladan nodded, confirming Elrohir's response as he drove his sword into the brains of a warg that charged at them. "She must have left with the Rohirrim when they went to join Gondor." None of three lost their concentration as they battled their way through the ranks of orcs and Uruks that had come to replace their dead and dying comrades.  
  
"I told her to stay and wait for you!" Elrohir exclaimed with as much anger as Haldir had ever heard come from the gentler, milder twin. "Why did she not listen?" he cried out as he decapitated a Uruk easily with the force behind his fury. "I only wanted to keep her safe!"  
  
"We have to find her," Haldir remarked fiercely as he had a brief breather to glance directly at Elrohir. "It is not safe on these fields. There is too much of a risk that even with her skills, she could fall. It must have been hours since she started fighting."  
  
"Indeed," Elrohir agreed grimly. "Elladan tell the others that I've gone with Haldir to search for Anaire."  
  
Elladan nodded that he had heard as he covered their backs as they back trailed to a part of the field where the fighting was less intense and where they could begin to start searching for the errant Anaire. As hard as they tried to make haste speed to where most of the main force of the Rohirrim were battling, their progress was slowed by the enemy that kept getting in the way. But they were making their way, they were moving forward.  
  
~  
  
"They came!" Eowyn cried out with relief as she gutted another Uruk. "They have arrived Anaire! Hope is restored!"  
  
If ever a smile had ever graced the timeless beauty of Anaire's lips, this was the smile that all her other smiles would be fond lacking to. The tide is turning, she replied, the smile that she had on her face infecting Eowyn when she smiled too. They arrived not a moment too soon. It will not be long before Mordor is completely emptied. If we are victorious here and the ring does not fall into the hand of the enemy, then everything will be restored.  
  
"Help needed here!" Merry exclaimed as he attempted to dodge the warg that his rider had sent after the vulnerable hobbit. What the orc that was currently steering the wild warg hadn't counted on was the stern mettle of the human woman and the elf maiden that were both garbed as two lanky warriors of Gondor. "About time too," Merry muttered when he saw them glance in his direction.  
  
The smile was still on Eowyn's face as she and Anaire attacked in perfect synchronization the warg that was charging at them. First, they plunged their blades into the eyes of the warg to effectively blind the beast. That then gave Merry the opportunity to leap onto the warg and thrust the point of his sword into the orc's belly. As soon as he was done, he jumped off swiftly and watched as they finished off the warg with the efficiency that spoke volumes of how well they complimented each other in battle.  
  
The hobbit wasn't given much time to think about how well Anaire and Eowyn matched since he was too busy trying to keep his head on his shoulders as a heavy Uruk swung his sword in a deadly arc that was aimed to decapitated Merry. If he stopped to think about the situation, he would have found it shocking that he didn't run anymore from danger. Instead, he was reveling in his capability to disarm a being much stronger than him by the merit of his speed and agility, then when the danger was gone, aim either at the throat or get underneath the armor and do a gut thrust with his blade.  
  
The pure absorption that Merry was feeling in the battle was the exact same feeling that Anaire and Eowyn had acquired a long time ago. What use was it to think? What was needed wasn't thought, all that was needed was for them to be efficient in their movements and to make their strength last as long as possible. It didn't matter how much blood they had made their enemy shed, more was still coming. But unlike an hour ago, this time they had the reinforcements. It wasn't only one sided.  
  
It was a good thing too. Eowyn had noticed how sloppy her movements were becoming. If anything, she thought she was doing better than Anaire, who had small superficial wounds that riddled her arms. It wasn't that she doubted the elven maiden's prowess. Anaire had proved it again and again by protecting Eowyn's and Merry's back; she just wasn't as good at keeping herself from harm.  
  
Eowyn deflected the blow that would have given Anaire another cut on her arm and panicked when she began to realize how hard it was to keep having the edge over these Uruks. She was relieved when Anaire plunged her spare dagger into the throat of the Uruk since the sword had been wrenched from her hand, it gave Eowyn the chance to kick the legs out of the foe and plant her sword into his brains. "That was close."  
  
There seems to be no end to this. Even Anaire's mental voice sounded weary, despite the infusion of strength that had come with the arrival of Aragorn's Army of the Dead and the remnants of what was left of elven potency. I do not know how much longer I can go on, Eowyn. She hated to admit her weakness, but she wasn't blind to the fact that she was failing and that soon she wasn't going to be much use to anyone. She was only going to be a hindrance. It is getting harder to continue on.  
  
"I know," Eowyn responded tiredly. "But we have to keep going on," she said resolutely, placing a still strong hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know you have more strength in you, Anaire. Don't give up; don't lose hope. Are you not the one that kept sprouting that there is always still hope left?"  
  
She nodded, so it seemed that Eowyn had listened to her brother on occasion, she only wonder when she had. There had not been many moments when Eomer and Eowyn had gotten the chance to be alone and to reflect on what was happening. It didn't matter, all that mattered was that Eowyn understood that there was still something to believe in.  
  
~  
  
On their rampage to find Anaire, Haldir, Elrohir, and Elladan had been slaughtering numberous numbers of the foe that came into their path. Their searching had taken to the very forefront of the battle to the backlines where the healers were trying frantically to save those that could be saved. Yet, still they had not found her. As more time passed, the more desperate Haldir became. It wasn't hard for him to imagine that she was one of the disfigured bodies that littered the bloody battlefield.  
  
No, if she was gone he'd know. Even if she hadn't bonded herself to him, he had to her. There was no place in his heart for another, there was only place for her. She consumed him. He had to find her, he couldn't be without her. He wished he had acted on his feelings earlier because he wanted not to spend a lifetime with her but an eternity. However, he knew before she hadn't been ready, he only hoped she was ready now.  
  
Elrohir saw the conflict that ran through Haldir's face. He rested his hand on Haldir's shoulder and reassured him, "We will find her, she is here. I can feel her presence, it's getting stronger. We must be getting closer to her. Do not worry so much, if there is anyone that can protect herself--- it's her. She did learn from the best warrior in Lorien, did she not?"  
  
Haldir shrugged, his mind focused on other things that Elrohir had spoken of. "Can you feel where she is?" he asked, letting the hope seep into his voice. If Elrohir felt her, then maybe he could find her.  
  
Sadly, Elrohir shook his head and answered honestly, "If I had stayed closer to Anaire longer, perhaps I could feel where she is. But I can only know when she is somewhere but not her location, unfortunately."  
  
Letting out a ragged breath, Haldir's eyes scanned the fighting crowd frantically wanting and needing to find her, to see that she was safe. He didn't doubt her fighting skills, but if she had been with the main force when the battle had commenced, then that meant she had been on the field fighting for hours on end. Even with her elven strength and skill, there was only so long that she'd be able to keep on at her best. And hours of nonstop battle was hardly going to help her stay alive.  
  
He only hoped that she had the ring on, but in his gut he was sure that she didn't. When he had given it to Galadriel to look at, she had only said that she had blessed it. It was her way of approving him. Yet in his heart, he had this feeling that she had done more than blessed this ring, that if Anaire wore it she'd be safe. While he knew his beloved wasn't wearing the ring, she had it close to her heart. He only prayed it kept her safe.  
  
~  
  
Though they had stayed away from the main body of the Rohirrim force so they'd not be recognized by those that knew Eowyn too well, they kept close enough to keep watch over Theoden and Eomer. Anaire knew that Eowyn kept glancing over to what was left of her family because she was worried about their safety. It was the same anxiety that Eomer had had when he had tried to keep Eowyn from her destiny. Ever since the reinforcements could be felt pushing back Mordor, the enemy had renewed its assault with even more fervor.  
  
But Anaire saw that this was not going to be a victory for Sauron. The tide had turned, and it made her happy to know the elves had come to lend their aid. She was worried what was going to happen now that things had become desperate for the other side. It was not like Sauron was going to give up. But what could now? No longer did she feel like she was battling for her life, it was now only for the cause. It was a good thing too because she was feeling the burden of her tired limbs even more. Soon, it'd be over. All over.  
  
Maybe not as she watched with horror when she saw the WitchKing approach the battlefield, clearing a wide path when he swung his sword one side to another. Anaire had paused to watch, frozen where she was when the WitchKing turned to her direction. His dead evil gaze pinned her where she was, leaving her entirely vulnerable to attack. If it wasn't for Eowyn, she would have died where she stood.  
  
"Anaire!" Eowyn shouted, trying to reach where her companion had gone. "You cannot lose focus now!" She shook her friend hard, not understanding the darkness that was consuming Anaire. "What is wrong?"  
  
Everything, Anaire thought. Her eyes were still focused on the terrifying form of the WitchKing as he wrought destruction on their cause. The tide had been turning, but it had stopped with the disastrous coming of Sauron's righthand. The light and the glory she had been filled with faded with that one glance from the WitchKing. Darkness consumed her with as much power as it had in her worst nightmares of her past torture.  
  
"Anaire?" Eowyn said with concern, continuing to shield the paralyzed elf maiden from harm. "Anaire, what is wrong?" she asked when she had a pause in action of defending her friend.  
  
Anaire couldn't form her thoughts into words, all she could do was point. As soon as she pointed, Eowyn turned to where Anaire was directing her gaze and didn't see what Anaire was seeing, the WitchKing. Eowyn saw the larger picture. The path that the WitchKing was making was heading straight toward her uncle. A quick look at where she had last seen her brother confirmed that he was too caught up in his battle to help.  
  
"Theoden needs help," Eowyn said sharply, shaking Anaire hard to get her to focus on the present. "Anaire, I need your help." It wasn't like Eowyn to admit her weakness, but if she wanted to reach her uncle's side, she knew she needed Anaire's help. "Anaire!"  
  
That snapped Anaire back and away from the evil that was infiltrating its way into her heart. I am sorry, she apologized. It is just... Just that looking at the WitchKing had reminded her of the darkness that had nearly absorbed her. The other Nazguls had been bad enough, but this was the WitchKing. Her worse feels were realized in him for his gaze penetrated farther. It reached inside of her and tempted her forcefully to acknowledge that she wasn't pure, hadn't been for a long time.  
  
"I understand," Eowyn responded with a reassuring smile. "Let us go help my uncle." Anaire nodded while Eowyn alerted Merry to their plan. Once Eowyn caught Merry's attention, they began to make their way steadily to her uncle's side. With extreme efficiency of having fought by each other's side for hours with only brief respites, they had become in tune to one another's movements. Leaving a path of dead enemies, they were coming to lend aid to Theoden.  
  
~  
  
"Lorien is saved, my Lady."  
  
Those words meant nothing to Galadriel as she stood on the ledge where she had successfully cast spell after spell to push back the wave after wave of orcs and Uruks that had left Lorien in almost utter devastation. But somehow they had survived and Lorien still had some of her light. The cost had been enormous as she stared at the elven maidens that had given their life to protect their home.  
  
If she was not the Lady of Lorien, she would have allowed herself to collapse and to weep for the destruction and horror that War brought, but she was the Lady of Lorien and she needed to be the strength that her people leaned on. If she gave in to the tragedy and pain, what could they do? Oh, she knew very well that her people regarded her as the most powerful sorceress on Middle Earth. She could not let them down.  
  
"Yes, Lorien is saved. Lorien is safe," she stated with her calmly serene voice, meant to soothe away any anxiety and worry in the elf's mind. "Go see to the injured while I peer into my Mirror." It wasn't a moment before the messenger left to return to the bloodied battlefield to lend what aid she could. When she had gone, Galadriel took a deep breath and made the long journey to the Mirror, dreading what she was going to see.  
  
The images that she saw sliced her heart into two, the pain that overwhelmed her shattered all that remained of her strength. How was she to continue if she had nothing to live for anymore? But there was still the chance that this awful price might not have to be paid. After all, had she not averted the disaster at Lorien? Not without a terrible cost, but still it had been done. Her fears for Anaire increased tenfold, where they had been inside of her since Anaire had left.  
  
The ring that she had enchanted did nothing to lessen her fears. The mithril ring Haldir had given to Anaire had not been given for value of the metal, though it was truly priceless, nor for the beauty of the craft. In the promise ring, Galadriel had poured her love, Celeborn's love, and Haldir's love into a powerful enchantment that was made to protect her daughter. She had told no one of it because for it to work to its full affect, Anaire had to accept the ring and the love.  
  
Yet even she did not know if it'd work. The sense of foreboding was terrible. It was going to be soon when Galadriel received her answer, whether Anaire was safe. All too soon because in the distance away from the empty battlefield surround Lorien, there was another fight being waged that would determine the fate of Middle Earth, that would determine her own fate. What had her precious Fanyarelisse once said to her? I will know before the night is over what course I will take.  
  
~  
  
She was so tired, so entirely weary that she did not know she continued to fight and protect Eowyn's back as her companion plunged into the battle recklessly, trying... trying so hard to reach her Uncle in time. The more obvious that the WitchKing was aiming for Theoden, the harder that Eowyn pushed. The hard Eowyn pushed forward, the more she didn't watch her back.  
  
In a way, Anaire thought it was only fair since she hadn't been paying attention to her back when she'd been lost in thought. But this was different. Then they hadn't been charging into the enemy. Then they had been stationary, able to watch for each other. Eowyn wasn't watching anymore, there was only one thing on her mind--- to get to her Uncle before it was too late.  
  
"NOOOOOOO!" cried Eowyn as the WitchKing brought his blade down to sever her Uncle, killing him instantly. "Uncle!" The sight of Theoden dying, drawing his last breath as he collapsed to the ground only pushed Eowyn harder to be by his side. Now, they didn't have to push through the crowd of men, instead they had to prevent themselves from being push backward as the men nearest him started retreating.  
  
It was with the wave of retreat that Anaire got separated from Eowyn and Merry, getting shuffled backwards and nearly falling over several times before she regained her footing. It was when she felt solid again on her feet that she felt a sword plunge through the air, aimed at her. It would have killed, it would have torn into her but for the mithril ring that blocked her heart from being stabbed.  
  
The Uruk then had jerked the sword away, ripping the ring from her neck. She should have been paying attention to the Uruk, gauging its move and seeing what attack it'd make. But no, her eyes were concentrated on one thing--- the mithril ring. She watched as it fell to the ground and her heart ached. Suddenly, she felt horribly vulnerable... something she had not felt in a long time.  
  
And she sunk down to her knees and tried to reach the ring. She knew she had to get the ring, though she didn't know why. In her desperation to reach the ring, she saw her mother reaching for the promise ring that she had dropped. It was hard for her to see any difference from what she was doing now from what her mother had done then.  
  
When she had first seen that dream, she had been confused and horrified about its significance then as a child. But when she had recalled it at Helm's Deep when Elrohir had placed Haldir's ring into her hand, she had been puzzled on why her mother had reached so frantically for a ring that would do her no good when she should have been reaching for a weapon to protect herself with.  
  
Just liked her mother. Yes, she was just like her mother. She wanted to weep because all the memories came crashing back into her, threatening to overwhelm her mind. Her father had called her 'my little girl' and her mother had been 'my big girl.' How she wished her parents had not died, but she could blame no one but herself. She had been the one that had wanted them to go out that night--- that night when they had died and she had been captured by the orcs.  
  
It was all her fault. All her fault that her mother had died, that her father had died. It was all her fault. And she knew now why her mother reached for that ring. It was more than a symbol of her parents' troth; it was the emblem of their love. As she was reaching for the ring, she knew she was trying to hold on to whatever love that Haldir must have had for her to give it to her.  
  
Haldir loved her. Celeborn loved her. Galadriel loved her. She was still loved even though she had caused her parents' death. It strangely calmed her hysterical nerves as her hands stained themselves with the blood on the ground as she touched the ring. That was all she managed to do when she was violently struck by a sword. The blade should have decapitated her, but it didn't.  
  
It left a nasty cut from her neck to her breast, but her head was still attached to her head. The pain shocked her back to what she had to do. She reached for her dagger, the only weapon she could get her hands on and she immediately plunged it into the belly of the Uruk that had been about to kill her. He roared with his pain and she didn't hesitate to grab her sword and finish the job off.  
  
It was as she had slit the Uruk from neck to navel that she was struck from behind. In her folly, she had forgotten to watch her back since she had gotten too use to Eowyn covering for her foolishness. There was no Eowyn to help her or Merry to distract the foe, she saw where they were. They were standing before the WitchKing and Eowyn had her blade lifted up in a challenge.  
  
Anaire could only imagine the gleam of bravery and determination that glistened in Eowyn's eyes. It was a pity she'd never see it again, she thought as the sword sliced into her chest. Her mind whirled in shock as she raised her sword and thrust it at whatever was behind her. Even in shock, she was still able to hear Eowyn's words ringing out clearly as her friend charged, "No living man am I! You look upon a woman... Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you."  
  
So like Eowyn. Courage and fire and the unwillingness to give up. Though her body trembled and shuddered from the weakness of extreme blood lost, she felt the foe behind her collapse before she did. It was her only joy to find that she was now in arm's reach of her beloved's ring. With the remaining strength inside of her, she closed her hand around the ring and heard in the faint background a voice she wanted most to hear.  
  
"Anaire!" It was him. He had come. "Anaire!" He had come too late. She did not even had the strength to turn her eyes in his direction; she had no more strength anymore. She had used it all to slip the ring onto her finger. She was his.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: This chapter took by FAR the longest to write. I wrote a good portion of it today and I have to say that I'm pleased with the way that it turned out. But note, I expect good reviews before I come out with the rest of the story. I'm currently no longer have to worry about school and have quite a bit of free time, and reviews do the best to encourage me to write. So how about it? I am currently obsessed with Harry Potter, which means I'm writing a Harry Potter fanfic... which detracts attention from this one and another one that like this one is nearing completion. Actually, the other one is closer... ^_^;; but I've been neglecting it 3 months for this one and it can happen to this one. Please review and let me know what you think? Was this scene as terrifically touching as I thought it was? 


	18. Arc 2: Lost Beloved

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
Thanks to Tara (I've written an HP one as well! But don't read it unless you like slash LOL), Iluvenis, Melfwain, AngelQueen, JadeGoddess, and Alatarial.  
  
~  
  
18: Lost Beloved (May 27, 2003 to May 29, 2003)  
  
His heart ripped into two when he saw her fall. Time had always seemed endless to him, it came and it went--- it never seemed to really be significant. Now it was beyond significant, beyond important--- more than precious. The first time she was struck, it struck him how priceless the time he had spent with her. The second time the blade sliced into her chest, he realized that he wanted to spend eternity with her.  
  
Blinded with his worst fears, he barely paid attention to how his elven blades cut through the enemies that stood in his way, he didn't notice anything other than Anaire lying prone on the ground her life's blood seeping from her body. Only when he was next to her, when he sunk down to his knees did he realize how little time had passed. It had seemed like it had taken him forever to reach her side, but in reality it had taken almost no time at all.  
  
What joy he derived seeing the ring on her finger was forgotten by her critical condition. He had no other care in the world other than to hold her in his arms. Vaguely at the back of his mind, he knew that the twins and the rest of the Galadhrim guard were fighting earnestly to protect him and her from harm. It was only when they'd managed to push away the danger that the twins dropped to their adopted sister's side to see how she was.  
  
Haldir knew, he knew she wasn't doing well. Her strength was fading and her soul he barely felt. He hardly felt his soul mate's presence; she was fading fast and he was fading with her. But despite the desperate situation, he had never felt as close to her as he felt right at this moment. Her acceptance, the ring on her finger had opened him up to her closed mind. It was then that he was able to delve into her depths and truly know the woman he loved. He felt her hesitation to let him in, but he persisted and what he saw only made him love her more.  
  
~  
  
He saw her as a child, wandering around watching the birds and the animals that resided in the forests. He saw that she loved to slip into the sanctuary of the tall trees at the deepest hour of the night, how she would sing to the old spirits and how they responded to her singing by bending their branches toward her. A nightingale she was for them, an angel of darkness that thrived in an atmosphere that lacked light.  
  
Years past by, the happy moments and serenity of her childhood were over the night she went out when her parents had told her not to roam. But she had to, the compulsion to be in the wild surrounded by the darkness in her soul pushed her to disobey. That rebellion cost her the life of her mother, slain with brutality by orcs while she watched on. Her refusal to obey led to the torture and eventual death of her beloved father.  
  
He saw that her mother had meant a great deal to her, but it was her father that was her biggest love. It was her father's death that had crippled her mind to the extent that she refused to remember the past; instead she faded inside of her and let the darkness that once was her happiness shield her from the torment and torture she suffered.  
  
Reliving her physical abuse by the orcs had made rage spread like wildfire over his mind, but it was soon forgotten when he saw how she viewed the two hundred some years that she had spent in Lothlorien. While it lacked the happy liberty of her childhood, it was still some of the happiest years of her life. It was less of outright joy than a serene existance that allowed her to thrive and rebuild herself.  
  
It had helped to be under Galadriel's guidance to help realize that her gifts weren't a curse. For it was for her mind reading ability that she'd been kept alive by the orcs when the leader figured out she knew precisely what they were doing before they did it. The orc thought it was foresight, and while she had somewhat of a gift for the future--- they were far and few in between.  
  
She was kept alive and tortured enough to keep her weak but not killed. It was because she wasn't killed that her mind had made her forget her past to protect her from breaking down into insanity. While Haldir tried to reassure her that it wasn't her fault that her parents had perished, he knew that she wasn't listening to him. All he could do was to give his understanding and his love and pray that she accepted it.  
  
~  
  
He was jolted from the warmth of her mind when her heart stopped beating. Everything suddenly sped up to a desperate speed as he saw Elladan and Elrohir chanting healing spells as they worked to stitch up her wounds. Elrohir was working with her chest wound while Elladan worked on the cut from her neck to her breast. It was only when he paid close attention that he realized that the twins were working with dangerous healing spells and he knew why.  
  
She was almost gone, it wouldn't be long... not long at all. He felt like his being was being suffocated into oblivion when he realized that she was dying. He had never thought that she'd died; he had thought that they had years to be together, thousand of years. And now everything was moving too fast, there wasn't enough time. There wasn't enough time!  
  
"I will not let you die," Elrohir muttered to her as if she could still hear him, as if she wasn't dead this instant. Elrohir slashed his wrist and let his blood seep into her wounds. "From the blood of a brother, let the bond between us strengthen my sister." But Elrohir knew that she was more than a sister to him, he'd admitted it to himself a long time ago though he knew he would do nothing to change their relationship. He would be happy as long as she was and she'd been happy with Haldir.  
  
All that Haldir understood was that there was a strong bond between family in elves that sometimes did miraculous things. But the truth was that no matter the fact Arwen and Anaire were sworn sisters, they still weren't blood relatives. Elrohir's spell might work, but it wasn't going to work as well as if Elrohir was truly her brother. But at least it was something, it was still something.  
  
And it worked, she coughed and Haldir lifted her head up gently to a half sitting and half lying down position. As she coughed, blood splattered onto him and the twins until her body stopped hemoraging the blood that had been drowing her. When the episode was over, her entire body began to tremble and shake with her shock while he held her close to his chest.  
  
"Rest, nin istelile," he murmured to her gently, but she wouldn't. Instead, she with much effort tried to reach to grab his hand. When he realized what she wanted to do, he threaded his fingers through with hers and squeezed her hand lightly. It was then with extreme effort that she smiled at him. "Im meleth inta," he cried out agonizingly to her. "Amin mela lle."  
  
her weak mental voice echoed in his head before she turned her head with her remaining strength and her unfocused eyes fixated themselves on her savior, her brother--- Elrohir. The utter anguish that appeared on his face after she said that tore her apart. She had no wish to cause him pain, but it was over--- the pull was too great. And yet as much as it ached inside of her to hurt him, it was not as much as the hurt in her to cause the same agony to her beloved Haldir.  
  
If only she had discovered sooner how she felt, if only... what then?  
  
~  
  
Across the time and across the space in the destruction and devastation that surrounded her, it did not make her sink to her knees in despair. When she did collapse it was because of what she saw in her Mirror. It wasn't that she wasn't expecting it, she had been dreading seeing her Fanyarelisse fall since she had sent her out on the quest. She had known that there was a great probability that Anaire would fall, that she would perish. But there had been nothing she could do to stop it.  
  
If she had, she would have deliberately changed the future. So she had let her beloved Anaire go on with her destined fate knowing that unless something extraordinary happened that her daughter would die. At this moment, Anaire was passing over to the Halls of Mandos and no matter what protection she had given to the promise ring, it had not helped.  
  
Anaire had put the ring on too late. The ring was enchanted to prevent injury yet it could not heal. There was only so much she could put into the ring, if only she had put a healing spell on it... if only. But how was she suppose to know that Anaire wasn't going to wear the ring? And if she had enchanged the ring to heal Anaire, that wouldn't have protected her in battle. But now she had wished she had, now she wished she had the foresight to see that perhaps a healing spell on the ring would have been more helpful than a protection spell.  
  
While others would argue that it wasn't her fault, that there was nothing she could to change what the Mirror allowed her to glimpse at, she knew that the Mirror showed possibilities but not unchangeable truths. She should have forced Anaire to stay like she had kept Anaire from joining the Fellowship when it had first formed. If Anaire had goen with them, she was almost certain that Gandalf would not have fallen but it would have been at the cost her Anaire's life.  
  
It comforted her to know that Gandalf had in the end reemerged as Gandalf the White and even stronger than before. But the momentary blinding guilt had forced her not to meddle with the Mirror when its intention was not to harm their cause but to strengthen it, even if it mean Anaire's life. And yet had it been worth it? What would have happened in the battle if Anaire had not been there?  
  
It was then that her Mirror began to swirl with potency as it showed her something it had never showed her before. The Mirror had never once actually let her see something at her request. It worked when she wanted, but it never showed her what she wanted to see. Now it was showing her, it was almost like it was alive and it was pitying her. Even though she did not like anything pitying her, she could not force herself to look away from what her heart yearned to know... that Anaire's coming death had not meant nothing.  
  
What she saw was significant. Without Anaire there, there would have been no way that Eowyn would have arrived at the battlefield as quickly as she had. Both of them were fierce warriors that had saved countless lives with their skill and bravery. The selfish part of her was thinking that their mortal lives were nothing compared to the eternity that Anaire had lost, and yet she knew Anaire would have it no other way.  
  
Crumbling down to the ground, she could only imagine what her husband and what Haldir was going through. Anaire was a true daughter to her but to Celeborn she meant the world to him. And Haldir? Anaire was the love of his life. The sinking feeling inside of her would no way compare to theirs. As tears fell down her cheeks, she knew that her Fanyarelisse was getting closer and closer to the Halls of Mandos.  
  
~  
  
She was almost gone. Her breathing was raspy and weak. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open. She had long since stopped holding Haldir's hand. He was the one that held her now, holding her until she departed. All those that meant the world to her surrounded her except her adopted parents, Celeborn and Galadriel. Galadriel she knew she would not ever see again, but Celeborn she knew she would see if she held on a little bit longer.  
  
But it was getting increasingly more difficult to hold onto her grasp of her physical presence when everything inside of her was yearning to move beyond the physical world into the spiritual one. She was barely able to hear Haldir's loving words of endearment nor Elrohir's assurance that Elladan was searching for Celeborn with haste speed. All her efforts were on keeping her eyes open even if she didn't really see anything except blurred images.  
  
If she kept her eyes open she knew that she wasn't going to succumb and cross over. She didn't know how much longer she could fight and hold on. As every second ticked by, she was feeling weaker and the temptation to let go stronger. When she thought her resistance was about to falter and fade away, she felt his warm and fatherly touch as he caressed her cheek.  
  
"Hush," he told her gently, reaching down to kiss her forehead tenderly, "save your strength. Elladan has gone to get Elrond, he will heal you, Estelinde. I am no prouder of you than I am this day; you have shown courage and bravery beyond my expectations, Anaire. And I see," he said letting his voice lighten with a joy that he didn't really feel, "that you have accepted Haldir's troth."  
  
Celeborn was trying to be optimistic, but seeing her now all his hopes faded away. He hadn't wanted to believe Elladan when the son of Elrond had told him how grave her condition was, how she was about to pass into the Halls of Mandos. He hadn't wanted to think that his daughter, for she was his daughter as Celebrian had been Galadriel's daughter, was dying.  
  
Her mental voice was weakening when it was usually a gentle yet resounding. It seemed that whatever strength she had had waitng for him was waning since he'd arrived. It almost made him want to retreat and force her to wait for Elrond to come. Where was Elrond? Where was his son in law?   
  
Her voice faded from his mind and when it was truly gone, he saw that her eyes had closed. She was gone; she had gone to the Halls of Mandos. An unimaginable ache was inside of him that knew no bounds, and though there was no weeping around him he knew that he wasn't the only one utterly devastated. All around him he saw the tragedy in beautiful elven eyes that surrounded the fallen Anaire.  
  
When they felt her fully disappear from her body, the elves around her started to hum softly--- a lament to remember her. It was as they were reaching the crest of the song that Elladan appeared with Elrond and not far behind them were Legolas and Gimli. Elladan and Elrond sank to their knees besides Haldir, Elrohir, and Celeborn but Legolas was too overcome with shock to join them in the dirge.  
  
"What happened?" Legolas asked, the utter astonishment in his voice clearly reverberating in his choice of words. Then he turned to Elrond and his twin sons, all of whom were singing the lament in solemn yet sorrowful tones. "What are you doing? Why aren't you healing her?" Even though he said this, he knew that it was already too late. Just a brief glance at her still form told him if she wasn't already traveling to the Halls of Mandos, she was getting ready to depart.  
  
The only one that bothered to answer Legolas was Elrond who told him in a soft, but sharp tone, "You are interrupting her lament, Legolas. There is no need to heal her, she has departed already and we are trying to help her on her way."  
  
Whatever Legolas had wanted to say when he opened his mouth to make a response he did not when his eyes rested on her hand that Haldir still held tenderly, lovingly. It was when he noticed the ring that he closed his mouth abruptly and looked about to run off when he suddenly sank to his knees. He wanted to cry out against the injustice, but he knew that he had no right--- that was her family's and Haldir's. But that didn't mean he wouldn't mourn her lost and so he parted his lips and let his voice join theirs in the haunting song.  
  
~  
  
"Come now, tithen nin," whispered a gentle voice. "You are almost there."  
  
It had been with relief that she had let go of her physical body and let the pull of the spiritual Halls of Mandos draw her near. But even when she'd freely decided to go, she found that her way wasn't without some hardship. It was probably because she wasn't the only elf that was journeying to the Halls. There were many elves, some more injured than she and others less so.  
  
It made her heart ache to see how many of her kind they had lost in the final battle. But if she thought hard enough, she could almost recall hearing Eowyn triumph over the WitchKing . Who ever would have thought that a mere mortal woman would succeed where so many others had failed? No one she suspected but her. But all in all, she was glad that it was Eowyn--- it was only fitting that the Shieldmaiden of Rohan was the one that would bring light back to the darkness as she had done for her people that she had now done for all Middle Earth.  
  
"Tithen nin," called the enchanting voice, "you must hurry, you would not want to be left behind would you? Your time is over here, do not dwell on it. But one day, one day perhaps you will go back. Come now, tithen nin, come to us. You are nearly there."  
  
She hurried, rushing along side the other elves that no doubt also heard the call. It was a rush to feel the companionship and whenever she felt like she was going to falter, some nearby elf was more than willing to help her. And all her sense of hurrying ended when she saw the Halls of Mandos. The most beautiful smile appeared on her lips as she fell into the arms of her amme and adar, they had been waiting all this time for her--- and yet if she had come any sooner she would not have remembered them.  
  
She only just regained her memories, only just remembered who she was and who her parents were. The guilt inside of her receded when she saw that there was no trace of anything other than love and joy to be reunited with her. "Adar!" she cried out as she was swept in her father's arms. "Amme," she murmured as her mother kissed her on the forehead. "I've missed you so."  
  
"We have missed you, Melde," her adar said as he gently led her into the Halls of Mandos and from there they disappeared into the eternity that awaited them. Anaire, now Melde, gave on last lingering look at the world she'd probably never seen before she wrapped her arms around her parents and entered with them into whatever awaited them.  
  
~  
  
It was decided. Galadriel was going to go to Valinor, the Undying Lands, while Celeborn stayed in Middle Earth for however long he wished. Elrond and his children were glad that at least the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien were at least being agreeable now. When Celeborn had returned to his home and had discovered it devastated, he had taken it all in stride until he had learned that Galadriel knew that Anaire was most likely to have died if she went with the Fellowship.  
  
The anger from Celeborn was understandable, and yet all of them knew that Galadriel was tortured with her own sense of guilt. But it didn't matter, Celeborn was holding onto his anger--- well he held onto it until it was the day that Galadriel was going over to the Grey Havens to Cirdan where the ships were being prepared for the journey. Galadriel wasn't the only one going, Elrond was leaving with his mother in law to rejoin Celebrian.  
  
It was Elrond that got through to Celeborn before it was going to be too late for the elder elf to speak to his beloved wife. "You know she has enough guilt on her as it is, with the devastation of Lothlorien and the loss of Anaire, and yet you know what she did was right. Think of what would have happened if Anaire had not been there?"  
  
Celeborn let out a ragged sigh and nodded that he knew it wouldn't have been good. "It is hard," he finally remarked. "She is going to see Celebrian again and I will never see my Estelinde ever again. She will have her daughter and I will never have mine. Then again she was never my daughter to begin with."  
  
"Do not say that," Elrond responded. "You know that she regarded you as a true father. To her, you were the one person she relied on more than anyone. You were the one she turned to for comfort when everything else in the world was dark. And if she knew you were staying here, she would be proud you. You are staying here to repair Middle Earth and bring it back to her splendor. When you are ready, you have Galadriel and Celebrian waiting for you in Valinor you know."  
  
"I think that is why I am staying," Celeborn said softly. "I think that is what she would want. She never seemed to yearn for the Undying Lands like so many other elves do. She wanted to stay here, but I can understand why the others cannot bear to stay." That was in reference to his March Warden, Haldir, who was leaving with the Lady of Lothlorien for Valinor. "It is too painful and yet there is still so much good we can do here."  
  
He paused momentarily and then added gently, "I do not have the heart to say farewell to Galadriel, but tell her that I have never stopped loving her and that when I am ready I will rejoin her in Valinor. I do not know how long it will take, but tell her that while we may be physically separate--- we are one spiritually."  
  
Elrond smiled and lifted his hand up to say goodbye. "I will let her know. Do not take too long, you know that Celebrian may be her mother's daughter, but she still needs her father too."  
  
"I know," Celeborn replied. "I will pray to Elbereth for your safety."  
  
~  
  
"This is as far as you can go."  
  
She turned alarmed eyes to her adar and her amme. It was her adar that spoke up for her, "Why is she not allowed to go further? I thought that we waited here for her to join us before we would be allow to continue on our journey to the other place."  
  
"She is not ready to leave the Halls yet, she has more yet to live." When that did not seem to satisfy either of the two protective elven parents, the voice decided to add to the explanation already given, "You waited to see whether your Melde was all right, now that you two have seen you can move on knowing she is going to be fine. If all goes well, you will be able to see her from your place above Valinor."  
  
"She cannot go on?" her amme queried, tears beginning show in her light silver eyes.  
  
"No, she will stay in the Halls of Mandos and wait to be reborn."  
  
---- The End ----  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: This is the end of Arc 2. Arc 1 was pre-fellowship (you've read it, it's about chapter 1 thru chapter 8.) and Arc 2 was the fellowship (chapter 9 to chapter 18). Arc 3 I may still consider doing, though to be truthfully I don't know if I will, it depends if you want me to do it or not. I've let the story be open ended to allow me the option AND you the reader the option of seeing it.  
  
As I've hinted at the end, Anaire is waiting in the Halls of Mandos and not allowed to go on because there's more for her to live. Basically she's waiting to be reborn again since elves can be reincarnated, but her parents have chosen not to be and are happy because they are together.  
  
Where the hell did Melde come from? It means 'beloved'. I thought it was suiting for her. And in Arc 3 (post fellowship and reincarnated Anaire) will it be the same? No. Anaire was created through her circumstances (her torture and guilt and memory loss) and while the new 'Anaire' (her name won't be Anaire either) will be similar, detached and indifferent and a distinctive 'daddy's girl' she will not be nearly as reticent as this Anaire.  
  
Having said that... do you wish for me to continue? (I'll delve into Valinor and post Elven culture after the fall of Mordor). AND care to guess who her father will be? ^-~ Good luck and good guessing. 


	19. Arc 3: A New Beginning

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
~  
  
Review thanks below!  
  
~  
  
Arc 3: Post-Fellowship 19: A New Beginning (June 1, 2003 to June 3, 2003)  
  
In less than an hour they were going to landing on the shores of the Undying Lands--- Valinor. All around him, he felt their excitement at finally arriving at their paradise where all their worries and fears of darkness were eradicated forever. True, there would still be the normal elven concerns but never would they have to worry about death by warfare again. And yet it all felt empty to him now. He'd rather spend the rest of his life in Middle Earth if it meant he might be able to spend one more day with his beloved Istelile.  
  
She had been gone for weeks now and yet the hollowness inside of him failed to subside. He wished that he could fade entirely so that perhaps he might find her again in the Halls of Mandos. The problem was that they hadn't fully bonded themselves together. The beginning of the ritual was there, but they hadn't completed it. Their souls hadn't been able to become one yet. Thus, though he would never feel completely complete without her--- he wouldn't die of heart ache either.  
  
It had been Galadriel's suggestion that he leave for Valinor with her when she went. He had been reluctant to go even though Middle Earth held no join for him now that Anaire had passed away. It was there in Middle Earth, in the forests of Lothlorien that he had slowly fallen for her. It was there amongst the mellyrn that all their memories were contained. For days he'd wandered through the still ravaged forests of Lothlorien thinking and reminiscing Anaire.  
  
It was when he came upon her favorite mallorn, the one that she had climbed and rested in many a days that he'd finally broken down. It was then that he decided that if he stayed here, especially in Lothlorien that he would go insane. Crazy with the longing for her, mad with the knowledge that she was never going to come back to him. So he'd taken Galadriel up on her offer and had cast his lot with hers to journey to the Undying Lands.  
  
He didn't regret it. Here at least he had nothing to remind him of Anaire. He didn't need anything to remind him of her. Every waking moment he thought of her. Her presence from his mind wouldn't ever be erased, but he needed to try to live without her. What had Galadriel said to him? That Anaire would be saddened to know that he had given up on living just because she was gone.  
  
His Lady was right, Anaire would have been filled with sorrow to know how dead he felt inside without her. How he went through life in the actions but not truly living it. It was hard to go on, never seeing her eyes that contained so many whispers of emotions. Nor to see that brilliant final and first true smile she had ever given him. And yet, if he moved on he kept her memory alive. He would try to find something to live for again for her, only for her. She had hope, and hope was if not anything was life. He hoped the Light in Valinor would restore his own waning.  
  
~  
  
I.V. 100  
  
Legolas had never married. Though there weren't as many viable options for him since many of the elven maidens had departed for Valinor, there was never a lack of maidens that tried for his hand. But he had no interest in them. None at all. While he'd like to say that it was because of his love for Anaire that he didn't marry, he didn't think that was it. He hadn't known Anaire enough to love her as deeply as Haldir had. He did love her, loved what she represented--- hope in all the darkness that came.  
  
While there was more hope since the defeat of Sauron, none quite equaled her steady but soft presence. Without Gimli by his side, he didn't know if he really had a reason to go on anymore. The two of them had been inseparable since the Fellowship had officially broken down. They went wherever Legolas had to go as the clear leader of the elves that had decided to stay in Middle Earth. And it was work that kept him from thinking about his loneliness.  
  
With the help of the Twin Lords of Rivendell, Legolas had restored most of the elven lands to a beauty that though was not like it had once been was still quite lovely. It had taken a long hundred years, but finally they were somewhat reminiscent of what had been lost. While elven days were over, quite a few of their kind had decided to stay in Middle Earth to see it restored. The end of their extended stay was nearing conclusion and yet no word of those left on when they'd depart to Valinor.  
  
There was still one last place that would take several decades to restore--- Lothlorien. The great center of what was once a great elven land had been the last place they had vowed to revive. It was only fitting that it be the last to return to its beauty. It had symbolized all the pain and the suffering of Middle Earth, a remembrance of all the elves that had died so that Mordor would never reign supreme.  
  
Yet now came the time to think of returning it to its beauty. The time of darkness had ended and the time for light had arrived. Never had Middle Earth been as prosperous and as joyful as it was at this time. It was only right for the most beautiful lands of Arda to return to its state of splendor. Legolas smiled and urged his horse forward. To Lothlorien, he went with a light heart.  
  
~  
  
The only elf of notable standing that was missing from the elven council meeting to restore Lothlorien was Glorfindel. The rest were all present: Celeborn, Elladan, Elrohir, Thranduil, Legolas, and even Cirdan. The last to arrive had been Elladan who brought word that Glorfindel wouldn't be able to make it or be able to help in the first years to restore Lothlorien.  
  
"His wife has passed away," Elladan murmured softly, his brilliant blue eyes shining with his unshed tears. "He sent a messenger this morning to me. I didn't even know that anything was wrong with Nessa. I thought that everything was fine."  
  
Celeborn went to his grandchild and wrapped his arms around Elrohir comfortingly. "You know that Glorfindel wished to spend some time alone with his wife. We all know that she didn't have much time left here, that she was already starting to get weak with her illness. Give Glorfindel some time, we all knew this was expected since she was a human. Death comes to them."  
  
"But she was so young," Elrohir added hoarsely. "She was so young." Like Anaire, he thought inside. So young like Anaire, even if Anaire had spent more years in her lifetime than a human could in twelve lifetimes. He still felt the loss Anaire keenly, and he doubted that it would ever depart him. "She wasn't even forty years old, Celeborn."  
  
His grandfather nodded gravely. "It is hard to watch those that we care about die, but we must learn to live with it. We cannot continue to live fearing death for our human friends. Glorfindel loved Nessa even though he knew that one day she would eventually leave him alone, but while he was with her I have never seen him happier. If he moves on, that happiness is more than enough to last him the rest of his life."  
  
"He will probably fade," Elladan responded with a bittersweet one. "You know that Glorfindel and Nessa bonded. It is likely that he is fading as we speak, Elrohir and I should go to him. This meeting can be delayed. We should make haste speed to him."  
  
"You forget that Nessa knew a lot of elven culture," Celeborn remarked. "You forget that she extracted a promise, an unbreakable vow when she agree to bind herself to him that he continue to live on when her time was up. You know very well that Glorfindel will never break his word. He will live no matter how hard it will be on him."  
  
"We should still be there for him," Elladan insisted, after all Glorfindel was his best friend. He wanted to be there for his friend, afraid to see another one of he cared deeply for die. In the War of the Ring, many of his friends had perished and only Glorfindel survived. As a result, they had pulled closer together until they were nearly as inseparable as Legolas and Gimli.  
  
That had changed when Glorfindel had spied a young woman bathing in a river without a concern in the world for her modesty. Nessa had changed their relationship, making a duo into a trio. If anything Nessa and Elladan shared a special relationship, that if Glorfindel hadn't been bonded with Nessa would have roused the master archer's jealousy. Nessa's loss was sure to cut into Elladan deeply as it would affect all of them. Her carelessness and her abundant recklessness had been refreshing when they had all been suffering from memories of the past.  
  
Nessa had brought them the reminder that life was still life; thus, it was precious no matter how hopeless it may seem. In ways, Nessa was a bit of a reminder for Elrohir and Celeborn of Anaire--- a hopeful light. The only elf present that hadn't met Nessa was Legolas, who have been keeping busy to forget about the past. "She was a remarkable woman," Thranduil remarked, having met Nessa on one of his trips to Rivendell. "She will be missed."  
  
"Yes, she will," came the echoes of all those that knew her.  
  
~  
  
He had promised his wife; he had promised Nessa that he would not give up on life when her time came. He would not break that promise, not even if he had nothing to live for but he did. As he gazed down at his beautiful newborn daughter, he knew that he had something to live for once again. For years, Nessa and he had tried to have a child, but eventually they accepted that it wasn't going to happen, that they would remain childless.  
  
It had only been two months ago that Nessa had thought that maybe it was just her abnormal monthly fluxes that was causing her delays. Her subsequent nausea and tiredness only confirmed their delightful suspicions that Nessa was with child, about four months along to be exact. He had wanted to immediately declare it to everyone they knew that they were expecting their first child, but Nessa had wanted it to remain a surprise until Elladan's birthday.  
  
So he had agreed. That hadn't stopped him from finding the best elven childbirth expert to help his wife with any problems that she had from her illness. While it made carrying the child to term a rather difficult thing, she had to be in full bed rest mode, they were thankful they were getting this chance to bring new life into the world. But even they hadn't know how terrible the birth would be for her or how close to dying their baby had come.  
  
Was it only a week since he had lost Nessa? It seemed so long since he had seen his beloved Nessa smile at him brilliantly, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling at him with her hidden adventuresome streak. Nessa wasn't quite seven months along when she had gone into labor pains. Even with the expert midwife there, the birth had been horribly difficult.  
  
If Nessa hadn't been weak already from her illness, they might have tried a caesarian to remove the baby from the awkward position and hope for the best. But the outrageous bleeding would have killed Nessa outright. Instead, the slow birth did the exact same thing. It had taken hours for the midwife to turn their baby around and remove the umbilical from around the neck that would have strangled their baby.  
  
When their beautiful daughter had finally come into the world, Nessa was already making him remember the promise he'd made fifteen years ago when she had agree to bind herself to him for how ever long she'd live in this world. It was as he swore to her that he would live his life to the fullest even if she was gone that their daughter in her arms had stopped breathing.  
  
He wished then and there that Nessa had died before that. Instead, Nessa died thinking that the child of their love had died. He only prayed and hope that she knew wherever she was that the midwife had managed to resuscitate their child and that she was fine. Yes, their baby was fine. Weak and feeble--- but she was going to survive. The midwife had said that their baby was tough like Nessa. Yes, their beautiful daughter, Elenestel had to have had Nessa's fighting spirit to survive thus far.  
  
He pressed a kiss against her forehead and she opened her bright blue eyes to gaze at him with something akin to understanding as if she knew what he was going through. The midwife had warned him to not hesitate to call upon her if he needed any assistance, but so far Elen had been an easy baby. She never cried, only whimpered when she needed something.  
  
Smiling down at his lovely daughter, he cradled her close to his chest and vowed that he'd never let her go. No matter what, he would always be there for her especially since she had no mother to nurture her. He would be everything for her: her father, her mother, her everything. His Elen would lack for nothing. No she would have everything in his power to give her. She was all he had left, she was his everything.  
  
~  
  
It had been years until Elladan had time to make his way to his best friend's dwelling place. Glorfindel had not come to Rivendell for years even though Elladan had urged him too. Glorfindel said simply that it was too painful to return to Imladris without Nessa, that the place evoked too many memories of his courtship of his beloved wife. The problem was that Elladan, as one of the Lords of Rivendell had committments that prevented him from freely venturing Glorfindel's way until now.  
  
Three long years had passed and it was time that he saw his goddaughter. There was also another hidden motivation behind going to where Glorfindel was, all those at Imladris wanted Glorfindel to settle closer to his homeland. Where Glorfindel had taken off after Nessa's death had no memories for him and it was far from any trace of civilization. Far, far away.  
  
It had taken a week to reach Glorfindel, only giving his horse enough time so that he didn't exhaust his faithful steed. He, himself was feeling the strain of the long journey and was thankful when he finally saw the shape of a small cottage built beneath trees that soared into the sky. The peacefulness of the land was comforting, and he knew that this atmosphere reassured Glorfindel who always reveled in the beauty of nature.  
  
Elladan dismounted gracefully from his horse and gave his stallion the signal not to drift too far away, but allowing his mount to have free range to wander to find what sustenance he needed. Before Elladan was able to get full bearings on his surroundings, he felt someone watching him. When he turned around, he saw the most enchanting little elven child he had ever seen.  
  
"Elen?" he called out her name softly, not wanting to startle her. She didn't run away, and he thought that perhaps she had inherited her mother's fiery personality. But when he started to move toward her, she backed up away from him. "You do not have to be afraid, Elen. I am Elladan, your godfather."  
  
She stopped moving away, her bright blue eyes staring at him calmly. The eerie ethereal feeling he got from her didn't remind him of Nessa at all. It was subtle and surreal. But she was image of her mother, dark blond nearly brown hair with the deepest azure eyes he had ever seen. He was so busy studying her that he hadn't even noticed Glorfindel's approach until his best friend called out to him, "I didn't expect to see you so soon, Elladan."  
  
Elladan broke out in a smile when he saw how good Glorfindel looked. The last time he had seen his friend, shortly before Elen's birth--- Glorfindel had been thin and wasted with worry for Nessa's well being. This time his friend was glowing with a happiness that was unequal to anything he'd seen since Glorfindel had married Nessa. "It's good to see you, Glorfindel. I say being a father becomes you."  
  
Glorfindel held his arms out to his daughter and Elen immediately ran over to her father. "Adar," she whispered softly as she wrapped her arms around her father's neck, "Elen missed you." She pressed kisses against Glorfindel's cheeks and buried her head into her father's neck.  
  
"Adar missed you, too," Glorfindel murmured warmly to his daughter, stroking her back comfortingly. "Say hello to adar's friend? He is your godfather, Elen, he is like a second adar." He pressed a kiss against her forehead and continued to caress his daughter.  
  
Simply observing the way the two interacted, it was clear to Elladan how close they were. It was almost frightening to realize that for the past three years that Glorfindel had come to depend on his daughter for companionship, for comfort, for everything. And it seemed that Glorfindel had taught Elen to depend entirely on him as well for everything. The way Elen held onto Glorfindel was almost disturbing in the intensity.  
  
It wasn't hard to see why Glorfindel was so protective of Elen, if anything Elen was almost a replica of his lost Nessa. Yet, there were differences enough to keep Elen from being a small version of Nessa. While her blue eyes were brilliant, they didn't quite contain the vividness of Nessa's. Elen's golden tresses were also a shade lighter, less luminous. From what Elladan could tell, Elen also did not have Nessa's vivacious personality.  
  
No, Elen was softer and needed someone to lean on--- her adar. "Glorfindel," Elladan said, trying to catch his friend's attention away from worshiping his daughter, "you know that I did not only come here to visit you."  
  
It worked, he had his friend's full interest. "I realized that," Glorfindel replied. "You are here because you want me to return to Rivendell, am I correct?"  
  
Elladan nodded slightly. "It is not good for you to remain isolated, Glorfindel. If not for yourself, think of your daughter. Do you think it is best for her to remain separated from everything, growing up alone? You know elven children need to interact with others, it is in our nature to want to be close to others."  
  
"Elen has had problems," Glorfindel responded with a sharp voice. "She is not like other elven children, they will be too noisy for her. She needs peace and quiet. She does not like to go out at all; she only ventures out when she knows that I am coming back. She will not like it in Rivendell; besides, the memories there are too painful for me to bear."  
  
Elladan sighed and decided that he had nothing better to do than to go to the last alternative. "I knew that you would not want to return to Imladris," he stated. "I have prepared some place for you to live that is near Imladris, well protected and peaceful. There should no problems for Elen or for yourself. It is near enough that I could come to see you and still attend to things that I need to." He paused and gazed directly into Glorfindel's eyes. "I have missed my best friend."  
  
There was a silence that was uninterrupted by any sound for several long moments while Glorfindel thought of what Elladan said. If Elladan had tried to force the issue, it would have been easy for Glorfindel to refuse him, best friend or not. But when Elladan had said that he'd missed his friendship, that was different and that was something he could change if he wanted to.  
  
He had to admit, he'd missed Elladan too. Elladan had been one of the main factors in getting him together with Nessa. The three of them had been the best of friends, a trio in every aspect of the word. But without Nessa it wasn't the same. While Elladan and Glorfindel had been great friends before Nessa, she had definitely been the glue that had stuck them even closer together. Elladan was like Nessa's older brother. It was from him that she learned the elven ways and it was through him that she met her future soul mate, Glorfindel.  
  
"How far away is this place that you speak of from Rivendell?" Glorfindel asked, it was the closest that he was willing to come to admit that perhaps he did want to go back. It was hard though to even consider going back to the place where he'd fallen in love with Nessa and shared some of the happiest times of his life. And it was because of Nessa that they'd left when they realized she was dreadfully ill. She hadn't wanted to spoil the sweet memories at Rivendell for him.  
  
In the end, it hadn't matter. He didn't want to go back to Rivendell and spoil the memories of being with her by being there without her. So he had traveled when Elen was healthy enough as far as he could get away from everything. And away from it all he had raised his daughter, loving her so deeply that it sometimes unnerved him that he might love her more than even Nessa. Being away from Elen was a hardship, but he did it because he had to do some things that were too dangerous for her to be around him.  
  
He sometimes worried that she didn't love him as much as he loved her. There were times she felt so far away from him that it was like she was in another time and place, not with him. But then whenever he'd come back after being away for hours and she'd come running to him, holding him like she'd never let him go--- it reminded him that to her he was all she had. It was another reason not to go back. If he stayed where they were, all she would know to need and to want and to love would be him.  
  
"A couple hours away by horseback," Elladan responded. "Not too close, yet not that far away. I would have to take a day off to actually visit you, so you would not need to worry about being disturbed too often my dear friend."  
  
And yet, the older that Elen grew--- the more that Glorfindel realized that having only him made his daughter even more withdrawn from everything. She spoke occasionally, but never often enough for him. Maybe Elladan was right, maybe it was a good idea to have her surrounded by more children. And from what Elladan was telling him, they were far away enough from other elves that Elen could retreat and be alone with him whenever she wanted to. Besides that, Rivendell had always been his home and he missed it.  
  
"Is the place that you speak of ready?"  
  
Elladan nodded. "It is there waiting for you whenever you feel ready to go."  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Was the father a surprise? Glorfindel is rumored to be reincarnated, so I thought that it was only fitting! I hope you see the similarities between Elen and Anaire. And I suppose you say aren't reincarnations suppose to look the same? Well, I'll answer that question later.  
  
Also, review review! Rana and Angelqueen had really insightful reviews that helped shaped this chapter and helped me to really think about it more thoroughly. I hope this chapter was everything you expected. Hopefully, the story continues to get better. Did I mention I get bored really easily and reviews keep me interested?  
  
~  
  
Thanks to 'Oh no you don't!', Iluvien, Iluvenis, JadeGoddess, Diadora, Tara, and Melfwain.  
  
Rana: As you requested, I've added a sizable scene with Haldir. Hope you liked it ^-~. The last few chapters have been erm underwritten b/c I was getting bored with the fanfic. Now that I've moved on to a more creative arc, hopefully I can make it through it without getting bored.  
  
Angelqueen: Hmmm... I at one time was considering Elladan to be her father, but one of my beta readers put in an interesting request why it should definitely not be either of the twins. You'll see why. As to say who she'll be with, you'll have to see. Different life, different circumstances. 


	20. Arc 3: A Twin Meeting

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
Disclaimer: All characters are Tolkien other than my "OC."  
  
Thanks to Nienna_Telrunya my beta and of course, Marie for helping me and being my plot bunny, you rock! I love your input more than anything!  
  
~  
  
20: A Twin Meeting (June 8, 2003 to June 9, 2003)  
  
{5 years later}  
  
"Elladan!" Elen cried out as she ran to her godfather. His arms that reached out for her, swept her up into his arms and lifted her up in the air. Cradling her carefully in his arms, he held Elen close as she kissed him on the cheek and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "I missed you."  
  
"I've missed you too, Elen," he murmured into her ear as he kissed her forehead. "So what do you want to do today? Ride? Explore? Read? Talk? What, tithen nin?"  
  
She smiled at Elladan happily and lifted her head up to contemplate him with her pale blue eyes. The thoughtfulness of Elen's expression reminded him of someone far older than she. It amazed him sometimes at her depth of maturity, she was only eight winters old after all but she had this air about her that was much older. "Ride."  
  
Elladan nodded and return her smile with a grin of his own. "Ride with me or ride alone?"  
  
"With you," Glorfindel answered for his best friend for his daughter. "And do not think I do not know how you have let her ride by herself before. If I have told you once, I have told you before not to let her ride by herself. She is not ready for those horses that you ride. They are too powerful."  
  
Elladan tilted his head toward Glorfindel to concede since he knew his friend was far too protective of Elen for his and her own good. But he wasn't about to contradict Glorfindel in front of the elf, he could do that behind his back. His twin, Elrohir had told him that he should just tell Glorfindel that he was being too cautious with Elen. But Elrohir hadn't seen Glorfindel with Elen. In fact, Elrohir hadn't even seen Nessa's child yet!  
  
He still didn't understand why Elrohir couldn't find the time to see Elen. He sighed and placed Elen on top of his horse then swung up behind her. His twin was working himself so hard to forget about the past that Elrohir didn't have time to do anything. Elladan shook his head and waved goodbye to Glorfindel. "I will bring her back before the sun goes down, Glorfindel. You ought to go out and do something, consider it a free day."  
  
Glorfindel shrugged, he really didn't mind spending all his time with his daughter; all his joy in life came from her.  
  
But it had been a month since Elen had seen Elladan and he knew that his daughter really enjoyed the time she spent with her godfather. It was nice to hear her laugh so carelessly. He did feel a twinge of jealousy that he couldn't make her laugh like that, but then again that special smile she reserved for him more than made up for that. Besides, he knew her better than anything else. What would she do without him?  
  
"Don't wear her out!" Glorfindel warned as he waved at his daughter. "Have fun with Elladan, Elen."  
  
"Bye, Adar," she whispered, blowing a kiss to him and smiling at him.  
  
It was after they'd said their farewells that Elladan urged his stallion forward by lightly pressing against his flanks. The slight nudge was all that was needed to get his mount so surge into a controlled trot that was rather smooth before the horse sped up to a rocking canter. They continued on this soothing rhythm for about half an hour before they reached the waterfalls that Elen loved to take a dip in.  
  
"Swim?" she questioned, her light sky colored eyes sparkled with her delight.  
  
Elladan nodded and dismounted, holding his arms out to her to help her down. She fell into his arms and allowed him to pull her off the horse's back. "Do you want to swim?" he inquired. "If not, we can just sit down and talk a while. I have not seen you in quite a time period."  
  
"Talk," she answered simply, walking over to her favorite part of the waterfall and sitting down gracefully. She pulled off her slippers and dipped her feet gingerly into the cool crystal waters. Elen waited until he sat down next to her before she spoke, "You told me about dreams." Elladan turned to her, looking intently into her eyes. "I had a dream."  
  
"Would you like to tell me about it, Elen?" he asked softly. She didn't usually volunteer information to him even if they did 'talk.' Their conversations were mostly Elen giving him one word comments to what he told her about his life. Whenever he heard her string two or three sentences together caused him to look at her twice. She wasn't a talkative child like a good deal of elven children were. She was almost always silent; it made her a terrific listener though.  
  
"I saw an elf that looked like you," she reflected. "But he was not you."  
  
Elladan blinked. He had mentioned that he had a brother, but he did not think he had ever mentioned that his brother was his twin; therefore, he looked exactly like him. Besides, why would Elen be having dreams of his brother when she had never met him? "How do you know it was not me?" he questioned softly.  
  
"I do not know," she admitted truthfully. "It did not feel like you. He was holding someone and looking very sad."  
  
"Do you remember anything else about the dream?" he asked. This dream of hers was perplexing. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't remember what it was. No matter, he'd figure it out and he might want to ask Elrohir about it when he returned to Rivendell later tonight. He was sure that his twin would be able to come to a conclusion of something.  
  
She shook her head, resting it on his lap. "No. Tell me about Imladris."  
  
He smiled, it was the same every time he came to visit. She always asked him to describe his home, since her father refused to take her there no matter how many times Elladan asked him. And since Glorfindel refused to go, he would not allow his daughter to go either. Elladan wished he could convince his friend, but to no avail. He sighed mentally and launched into a beautiful description of the beauty of Rivendell.  
  
~  
  
"Come with me to see Nessa's child," Elladan pleaded with Elrohir. "I do not see why you will not see her. I do not understand! You liked Nessa, and Glorfindel was one of your friends. Why will you not see her daughter? You have not even seen her, so you do not know if you like her or not!"  
  
Elrohir glared at him from his desk where there are parchments littering the usually immaculate top. "I am too busy to go traipsing around the countryside to see a child that means nothing to me. Ever since Glorfindel has moved closer, you have been shrinking your duties as Lord of Rivendell! You know in a few years we will be leaving Arda forever; we need to prepare for it! Every time I turn around you are running off to see Nessa's child."  
  
"Glorfindel will not let her go anywhere near Rivendell," Elladan responded. "So I have to go to her and to him. He has to be lonely there by himself, but he says that he is all right as long as he has Elen. It will be good for her to know someone else besides her father and me. You were once pretty close to Nessa, what has changed? Elen is very much like the image of her mother. I thought that you liked her..."  
  
"That is the point!" Elrohir cried out, his eyes flashing with more emotion than Elladan had seen in his twin for a long while. "And for some reason, I never saw Nessa as herself. She looked different, not anything like her. But there was something about her that reminded me of her. I cannot get her out of my head, and it has been years. Do you not understand? I am afraid Elen will remind me of her."  
  
Elladan blinked. There was no mistaking who she was--- Anaire Istelile. "You need to get over her," he replied gently. "Elen is a beautiful child; she is striking. You were always better at reasoning with Glorfindel than I was. I want to take her to see places, experience more than the isolation that has surrounded her for her entire existence. You know that the elves are going to gathering in Gondor for Eldarion's twentieth birthday soon. It would be nice if we could convince Glorfindel to go with us to honor Estel's heir."  
  
The look that Elladan read on Elrohir's face was not encouraging. But he pressed on anyway. "You have to let go of the past, brother. Anaire is gone, but there is still more in life to live. You should have gone with our grandmother and Haldir to Valinor. The light there would have done wonders for you. For you and our grandfather." It went unspoken between but both of them were concerned about Celeborn.  
  
If it wasn't for Arwen and Estel, they didn't know how their grandfather would have fared. Half of the time, Celeborn was in Gondor with his great- grandchildren. It was good to see their grandfather smiling, but the brightness in his eyes had been erased since the death of his daughter, Anaire. But still, he was coping better than Elrohir was and certainly better than Haldir had been before his departure.  
  
Neither Elladan nor Elrohir liked to think what would have happened to Haldir if he had stayed in Middle Earth. He would have died from a broken heart. There was no doubt about it, he'd been nearly close to fading as it was. Thank Elentari that Galadriel and company had decided to leave much earlier than planned. Watching Haldir go was harder than, Elrohir had thought it would be. After all, neither of them had been particularly close. Elladan and Haldir had been closer.  
  
But it had been hard. They had grown close when Anaire had been ripped away from them. Close because they understood the turmoil the other was feeling, the desperation. Elrohir sighed and slumped against the back of his chair. It'd been one hundred long years, and yet he still thought about her constantly. It was hard to see her as only his sister, but if she had lived--- his sister she would be. How twisted fate was. How ironic destiny had to be.  
  
"Please, Elrohir."  
  
There had been a time when he hadn't been able to deny his twin when he used that particular tone. As they had grown older, it was still hard but not impossible as it had been when they were younger. But the tone combined with the pleading of Elladan's deep blue eyes wrenched his heart. "All right, I'll go."  
  
~  
  
He still had his reservations, but he allowed Elladan to drag him the next day to the modest cottage Glorfindel called home. While Eldarion's birthday celebration was months away, from the rants he'd been getting from his twin about Glorfindel's protectiveness of Elen--- it was going to take that long to wear down him to allow her to travel that great distance.  
  
He sighed and dismounted when he heard a sweet voice cry out happily, "Elladan!" A blond girl-child streaked toward them and leapt eagerly into Elladan's arms. "I missed you!" She kissed him on both cheeks. "You said you were going to come back days and days ago!" She abruptly stopped chattering her greeting when she caught sight of him. Her light blue eyes stared at him with shock and then there was a hint of recognition. "You were the one in my dreams, the one with the sad eyes."  
  
Elrohir blinked and shook his head with a vehement NO! How could he be in her dreams? Of course, it could not be him. She didn't know him, and besides he was a carbon copy of his brother. Well, he never quite had the smiling joy that Elladan exuded, but still they were twins! She had to have been dreaming of Elladan. "You are mistaken," he responded in a steady voice. "You and I have never met."  
  
He was expecting Elladan to back him up, but his twin instead questioned, "You had more dreams, Elen? What did you dream of this time? Can you remember anything else other than seeing Elrohir's face?"  
  
She nodded solemnly, still staring intently at Elrohir. "He was holding a silver haired girl."  
  
When she had said the word silver, Elrohir already knew who she was talking about. How had she known about her? How had she know about her, the one he would not name in his mind but who he thought of everyday? He was sure that Elladan hadn't told her, but while it was true that Nessa reminded him of her--- her child reminded her even more of her. It was almost striking how she looked at him was the same way she used to look at him.  
  
"Anaire...?" he whispered the name he hadn't spoken since her lament. It hurt to say her name.  
  
"Her name?" Elen questioned, looking at him then turning to get confirmation from Elladan. Her favorite person besides her father nodded his head gravely. That was indeed the name of the elven maiden that haunted Haldir, Celeborn, and his twin. "You loved her." It was not a question; it was a statement of truth.  
  
"Yes," he answered simply. "I love her."  
  
Elladan was struck by the depth of their brief exchange in words. He was even more stunned when Elen wiggled out of his arms and went to Elrohir, placing a small hand on his cheek and tilting it down to her. She smiled sweetly up at him and whispered something to Elrohir that only his twin heard. He wished he could hear what she said, but then again maybe not since a tear streaked Elrohir's cheek and he turned his face away from Elen.  
  
"Do you wish for me to speak to Glorfindel about Eldarion's birthday celebration while you and Elen do what you two normally do?" Elrohir asked quite stiffly, like he was uncomfortable with the entire situation. Elladan didn't blame Elrohir, the discerning Elen had was at times highly discomforting.  
  
Elladan nodded and held out his hand to Elen. She took his hand and didn't even glance back as they made their way in contented silence to her favorite tree.  
  
~  
  
It had been weeks turned to months where Elrohir came with Elladan as often as he could spare to wear down Glorfindel's resistance to letting his daughter travel anywhere. But they'd finally broken the walls down and Glorfindel had agreed to let his daughter go with them to Gondor to celebrate Eldarion's twentieth birthday. Of course, Glorfindel had only agreed since he was going as well. Like he was going to let his daughter go anywhere without him for a few months the trip entailed!  
  
Even though he'd been exasperated when he'd agreed, the look of pure joy that swept over Elen's face when he told her they were going with Elladan and Elrohir to Gondor had more than made up for his irritation in giving in. She had trailed kisses on his cheeks and had clung to him with her happiness, making her delight seep into him. Oh how he loved his daughter.  
  
Now that it was time to go, he felt a pang of terror set in. What is she liked it in Gondor? After all, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that she was elf born and elf raised--- she was still half human. What if her human half liked Gondor and wanted to stay there? He was afraid to lose her, no that was an understatement, he was absolutely terrified to lose her.  
  
"Adar?" Elen's soft and soothing voice echoed through the silent air. "Elladan and Elrohir are here."  
  
Glorfindel nodded and gathered up the little possessions that they had, consciously aware that they didn't have much and felt a twinge of regret that his daughter would not be as well dressed as the other elven children there. He sighed and wearily trudged out of their cottage. "Is there anything else that you want to take with us, Elen?"  
  
She shook her head and took his hand into hers. "Did mum come from Gondor?"  
  
Glorfindel nodded slightly. "She did," he finally answered in a choked voice. Though Elen rarely voiced her curiosity, she did have that distinctive trait of her mother. Other than that, Elen was surprisingly different from her mother. More silent, more passive and detached, but affectionate in an abstract way to those she cared about. It still somewhat fascinated Glorfindel has quickly Elen had warmed up to Elrohir.  
  
It had taken his twin, Elladan years to get that kind of trust with Elen. But Elen had taken to Elrohir like a fish that had been taken out of water, but then suddenly granted its most desired wish--- to be placed back into water. It had annoyed Elladan at first, but it hadn't lasted. As twins, Elladan was use to sharing with his twin, but he had thought his relationship with Elen had been more special. Glorfindel grinned. It seemed Elen might prefer the younger to the elder.  
  
"Does mum have family there?"  
  
"She did."  
  
"Are they still there?"  
  
"I don't know," Glorfindel responded, but he did have the nagging suspicion that they were still there. After all, where else would they go? Nessa had been an only child like Elen was, and she had been very close to her parents. But by the time Elen had been born, Glorfindel had taken Nessa far away to try and heal her that they'd lost contact with her parents. But he didn't doubt that her parents would recognize Elen a mile away if they saw her. While her color had faded over time, she still was very much the image of Nessa. "We will see."  
  
"Greeting, friend," Elladan greeted them warmly, leaping gracefully off his horse. "Elen, did you miss me?"  
  
"Yes," she answered softly, her eyes not resting on him, but on Elrohir who was leading one large horse and one small pony. "Pony for me?"  
  
Elladan smiled and offered his hand, which she took. "For you," he confirmed.  
  
Glorfindel glowered at his best friend. "I thought I made it clear she wasn't to ride."  
  
"She's ten winters old!" Elladan exclaimed. Elen's birthday had come and gone two months ago. "This pony is a present from myself and Elrohir. The pony's gentle, she won't hurt Elen."  
  
While Elladan and Glorfindel argued, Elen had moved over to the pony and started stroking her flaxen mane gently. Still mounted on his horse, Elrohir studied Elen with reflective eyes. He sighed and shook his head. He still couldn't get over how much Elen reminded him of her. When he spent time with her, the more she reminded him of the past. His logical self denied it, but the illogical self wanted to believe it was her. There was only one way to find out--- which was why he'd worked tirelessly to get Glorfindel to let them take Elen to Gondor. Celeborn would know.  
  
~  
  
"Nessa's child?" came the elegant and regal voice of the Queen of Gondor, Arwen Evenstar. Even though Arwen had given up the immortality of their people, her beauty was unmarred and still shone with a radiance that many said was equal to the brightest star in the sky. "You are very much the image of your mother, tithen nin."  
  
Elen smiled softly and bowed her head with respect. She had heard much about Arwen from Elladan and Elrohir. It had taken two weeks to reach Gondor, traveling swiftly though taking many rests along the way. It was easy to tell from the way the twins spoke of her how beloved their younger sister was to them. It was going to be hard for them when it came for Arwen's time to pass away. Very hard for Elrohir more than Elladan Elen suspected. Elrohir was quite close to his sister, much like he'd been close to his other sister--- Anaire.  
  
It had taken more than halfway through the trip before he had divulged the story to her about how the one he loved also happened to be his sister through blood bond she'd taken with his younger sister, Arwen. From what Elen had gathered, while Anaire and Arwen had been close like sisters--- Elrohir had shared something much deeper with the lost Anaire. She didn't know what, all he'd told her was the connection he shared with Anaire through Arwen. It was a pity she couldn't get him to tell her more, there was something about Anaire that fascinated her, something that struck her interest more than was normal for her.  
  
It was almost as if she knew Anaire. But that was silly, of course she didn't know Anaire, she had never met Anaire. and yet when she had met Elrohir, she had known him because of her dreams about him. She knew him very well, she had been able to get comfortable with him very quickly when it had taken very long for him to feel the same comfort level with his twin, Elladan. It was like she had known him before.  
  
"Her name is Elenestel?" Arwen questioned Glorfindel with a twinkle in her bright true blue eyes. "How suiting for such a beautiful girl." She opened her arms and moved to give the child a hug, but Elen was jolted out of her thoughts and when she saw Arwen reaching for her quickly backed up into her father.  
  
When she had backed away, she'd remember a flash of seeing Arwen before, but a younger her--- though the image that appeared in her head of Arwen didn't look any different from the lady that stood in front of her right now. The look that appeared on Arwen's features was reminiscent to something that happened a long time ago, but what? Elen cringed, it happened a very long time ago... whenever she got thoughts like these her head hurt incredibly.  
  
She sagged against her father and immediately Glorfindel wrapped his arms around his daughter. "Another headache, Elen darling?"  
  
She nodded barely as she closed her eyes, trying not to let the pain overwhelm her. Ever since she had had that dream of Elrohir, she had had brief flashes of intense pain in her head. It worried her father, it worried the twins too. After she had first seen Elrohir, she had had another one of those headaches, and subsequent visits had provoked more though not usually at the time of his visits. It was afterwards that it happened, when he was already gone. But she connected the pain to the visions that he invoked, and it seemed that he wasn't the only one.  
  
"Do you have somewhere she can rest, Arwen?" Glorfindel questioned, worry evident in his voice. "She needs to sleep and then she'll feel better. I apologize that you will not be able to talk to her for a while, but she really needs to rest."  
  
Arwen nodded with understanding and gestured to one of her ladies in waiting, giving quick instructions for them to lead Glorfindel and Elen to one of the guest rooms that had already been prepared for the numerous elves that would be arriving for her beloved son's birthday. Watching them leave with studious eyes, she sighed at the memories seeing Elen had brought to her. Nessa had been a very unique woman, unique enough to catch her brother's eye and then unique enough to make the warrior from Rivendell fall madly in love with her. And her daughter was the image of her mother.  
  
"She reminds you of Nessa, doesn't she?" Elladan murmured throatily as he came to stand next to his sister. "Do you know know who she reminds Elrohir of?" When Elrohir heard his name, he snapped his head toward their direction.  
  
From the quick way Elladan had caught Elrohir's attention intrigue Arwen. "Who?"  
  
"Anaire."  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: I hope this isn't all weird. I like being able to make this creative, which is precisely the opportunity that has been afforded to me now. Hmmm... so many options for the love triangle... however do I choose?! So how do you like the infusion of Glorfindel and Elladan (well Elladan was already know, but NOW he has a personality ;P). Insightful reviews rock!  
  
~  
  
Thanks to JadeGoddess, AngelQueen, and Tara.  
  
Iluvenis: Aw, how correct you were. You shouldn't be shy in voicing it next time = ). The idea was given to me by Marie since she didn't particularly like the idea of me choosing Elladan or making her the daughter of Arwen either. So ta da... she's Glorfindel's daughter and I get to make personalities for more people.  
  
Iluvien: I've already started on how to divulge to Elen that she is the reincarnation. I think it's pretty obvious that she is. And as you can see from this chapter, she has flashes of her past but whenever she flashes it hurts her horribly. And I probably CAN convince you again. Elen is the reincarnation, but she is not the same person. If you've noticed she's happier and more trusting. Then AGAIN having said that, she is still inherently the same person. Same attributes and characteristics, and she tends to be drawn to people from her past. 


	21. Arc 3: Reincarnated Soul

Title: In Times Like These  
  
Author: Yih  
  
~  
  
21: Reincarnated Soul (June 15, 2003 to July 7, 2003)  
  
"I remind you of her, don't I?" she asked, saying more to him than she did with anyone besides Glorfindel. She didn't know, but for some reason she felt like she really knew him. She didn't know if it was the dream or if it was something else. The dream certainly did make him less unnerving to her when she had been first introduced to him, but that still didn't explain entirely why she felt so comfortable with him.  
  
Elrohir nodded his head and smiled sadly at Elen. "You do, a bit." He studied her features, seeing traces of similarities between Anaire and Elen, but not really anything that was substantial. If there was one person that could confirm his suspicions... it was Celeborn, his grandfather and Anaire's adopted father. Arwen might have been Anaire's bond sister, her oselle, but she hadn't spent a few hundred years getting to know her either. No there was no one closer to Anaire left on Middle Earth other than Celeborn.  
  
Actually, he thought he could argue that he was perhaps the closest person to Anaire at one time, but had been replaced by Haldir when Elrond had forced him to stay away from Anaire. It'd been for the best, she needed to learn to depend on someone other than himself. Someone that wouldn't hurt her, Celeborn had been perfect. Besides, Galadriel had been a picture perfect surrogate mother when she had gotten to a certain point.  
  
She had needed a family, not a lover. She had gotten her family that she needed for as long as she needed and it was at the end of her life that she'd finally been ready to progress onward into the step of accepting someone to love her as more, as a soul mate. But it couldn't be him because he was in every sense of the word, a brother to her. He sighed and no other elven maiden could compare to her in his mind. Not one.  
  
"How?" she asked softly, her pale blue eyes too reflective, too much like Anaire's.  
  
He met her contemplative gaze with one of his own and reached toward her to brush one of her white blond locks away. "The way you act reminds me very much of her," he whispered painfully. "I had thought that I had moved past her, but there you are--- reminding me of her everyday once again."  
  
"Is that bad?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, it isn't bad. But Elladan and the rest of my family is right. I should move on. It wasn't like my heart broke when she passed away. If anyone whould have been overcomed by grief, it would be her beloved Haldir. He nearly died as it was, he has since then moved on to Valinor where the light there no doubt has sustained him from fading."  
  
She frowned at him, and he knew what that expression meant. Elen was having another spasm of pain. For some reason that neither of them understood, she was having them more often since they had come to Gondor. Glorfindel was beside himself with worry and honestly, Elladan and Elrohir were worried too. Maybe it was the different atmosphere or environment or something. There was something that was bothering her, and Elen being uncomplaining never mentioned anything about being in pain.  
  
It was only in a slight change of her facial expression that they knew something was bothering her. Most of the time they bothered to confront her about it, she denied it vehemently. Well, vehemently for her. Nothing she did was very forcefully done, but there was this quiet strength about her that again reminded him of Anaire. But this time he had a bargaining tool with her to get her to rest.  
  
"You don't look well," Elrohir commented. "You should get some rest, Elen."  
  
"I'm fine," she responded.  
  
He studied her with that look that said he knew that she wasn't feeling too good. "If you aren't feeling radiant, you know that your adar won't let you attend the informal gathering tonight since it's not necessarily required for attendance. You know it'll be your first chance to meet Celeborn."  
  
He didn't know why, but ever since he'd mentioned Celeborn to her, that he was his grandfather, Elen had been excited to meet him. Excited being the keyword. She wasn't usually overly emotional about anything, but when he'd talked about Celeborn to her, she had asked him far more questions about Celeborn than was normal even for a curious elven child.  
  
One night they'd actually been talking for so long that Elen has nearly collapsed from her exhaustion. Another reason that Elen wasn't to get too overly excitable about anything. Glorfindel didn't think that Elen had her mother's sickness, but he wasn't taking any chances that he was going to lose his daughter either. There were times when it did seem that Elen had her mother's problems. Too much physical activity wore her out. Like Nessa, her endurance was lacking though her persistence was there.  
  
While Glorfindel didn't regret his daughter's birth, if Elen hadn't been born the general consensus was that Nessa would have lived at least another 5 years. The strain of childbirth had robbed her of those last 5 years, but at least in this way Nessa had provided Glorfindel his precious daughter. Elrohir and Elladan thought that his suffocating love for Elen was unhealthy, that he needed to let her go. The problem was that Elen didn't look like she was stifled nor did she seem unhappy. She thrived on Glorfindel's overgenerous attentions.  
  
"All right," she relented with a soft smile. "Do you know where Adar is?"  
  
~  
  
Whatever reaction Elrohir had expected from his grandfather, it was nothing like the reaction that he thought was coming when Celeborn laid eyes on Elen. The shock in Celeborn's blue eyes was unmistakable as they roamed over Elen's thin form as if they were seeing something they didn't think was possible. Elrohir thought it may be because Elen looked remarkably like Nessa. But it couldn't be that for Celeborn had never really met Nessa more than a few times. Not enough to have an image of her imprinted into his mind to cause a reaction like this. No, it was something else entirely.  
  
Elrohir didn't have to wait long to find out. "Estelinde!" Celeborn cried out as he raced toward Elen and swept her into his arms. It seemed his grandfather was the only one that didn't noticed how Elen immediately tensed up. Her pale sapphire eyes were frantically desperate. It wasn't that Elen wasn't an affectionate child, she was to a degree and really only with Glorfindel, but this was too much. For an unknown elf to come up to her and grab her like that was terrifying. After all, she was still traumatized from being exposed to so many people after being exposed only to a maximum of three elves in a limited period of time.  
  
"This is Elen," Elrohir echoed gently as he gently extricated Celeborn's arms from Elen's shaking body. As soon as he'd gotten Elen away from Celeborn, she dropped from his grasp and ran to Glorfindel, who was standing to the side wearing a frown on his face. It was easy to see why Glorfindel was upset, he was upset because Elen was upset. "Glorfindel's daughter. Nessa's child."  
  
Celeborn heard grandson's words, but Elen was the image of Anaire. Couldn't Elrohir see the resemblance? Perhaps, not. She tried to recall a piecture of Nessa, and when he did he had to admit she did look a lot like Nessa. Maybe it was only coincident why Elen looked like the mirror image of Anaire with more vivid coloring, if pale blond and blue eyes could be considered vivid. Of what Celeborn remembered of Nessa, she had been a vibrant beauty with glorious golden hair and deep blue eyes that rivaled Arwen Evenstar. This child of Nessa's was pale and silver in contrast, very much like his Fanyarelisse.  
  
"Don't you see how much she looks like Anaire?" Celeborn questioned. "Nessa, if I remember, had golden tresses and deep sapphire eyes. This child has hair of the palest yellow and eyes of translucent topaz. Without the color, can you not see Anaire in her? Elrohir, she can be reincarnated."  
  
"She is not a reincarnation!" Glorfindel exclaimed vehemently, clutching his daughter to him protectively. "She isn't! She can't be! She is Nessa's and mine. She's the living vision of Nessa. I won't have you saying she's a reincarnation of Anaire Istelile. She isn't. She isn't!" With that loud exclamation of nerves, Glorfindel stalked away from Celeborn and Elrohir with Elladan following closely behind his best friend trying to calm him down.  
  
Celeborn knew why Glorfindel was so quick to deny that his precious daughter Elen was a reincarnation. Glorfindel was one, himself, and once it became known that one was a reincarnation--- the old life resurfaced painfully. There was only one way to regain the knowledge... to experience it again. Glorfindel's past life had been hard, but it was undoubtedly easier than Elen's if she was Anaire reincarnated. Just living through his former death had nearly killed Glorfindel. It was only with Elladan's support and Elrond's magical gift of healing that Glorfindel had survived. It was for this reason very few elves were reborn.  
  
It was better for them to dwell in eternal happiess in the Hall of Mandos than to have to go through additional suffering. But some elves were reborn, reborn for the purpose of living again as hard it as it was. It was usually that these elves had a purpose that they needed to fulfill. And Celeborn was sure that it had to do with Anaire's leaving before she could be bonded to Haldir. It had to be. That is, if Elen was Anaire. His intuition was rarely wrong, and it said that Elen was Anaire.  
  
And yes if she was, he felt anguish for her. Her death had not been easy. Her life had been filled with hardships that would have crippled a weaker elf, destroyed a human. To ask her to live through this again? Unquestionably very cruel. And undoubtedly hard. It would be a terrible burden to place on her young shoulders, but if she was... then it would happen whether or not they recognized it.  
  
It be all the better for her if it was recognized, if they did something to help her before it was too late. Celeborn was determined to help her through this, even if it was terribly difficult and terribly hard to get it through to the stubborn Glorfindel. He sighed and closed his tired blue eyes. So many years had passed since he'd lost his Estelinde. So many long years. What would it be like now to have her back? Back once again where he could hold her in his arms and make up for all the times that he hadn't been able to?  
  
Unbearably hard, unbearably so. He opened his eyes and met Elrohir's own, so reminiscent of his long gone beloved Galadriel. "She is Anaire."  
  
"Are you sure?" Elrohir questioned softly, in a disbelieving voice even if inside he knew it was true. There were too many things that added up now. How she'd somehow known him before she'd ever laid eyes on him; how she'd been drawn to him even if his twin had been the one that had known her years prior. It all made sense if she was Anaire's reincarnation. "Are you sure about this?"  
  
"She is the living image of Anaire, don't you see?"  
  
Yes, he did see if he looked past what seemed so like Nessa. Then again Nessa had reminded him of Anaire, so it only made sense that Elen would look like Anaire. Maybe it was because he'd tried so hard to separate Nessa from Anaire that the connection between Elen and Anaire hadn't fully met in his mind even when he thought it was strange that everything she did reminded him of Anaire. "Yes."  
  
"You will need to have Elladan talk to Glorfindel."  
  
"I will."  
  
"It needs to be said."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I wish your grandmother was here," Celeborn said wistfully. "She would have known exactly what to do."  
  
~  
  
She was terrified. She was paralyzed with fear. But she knew it wasn't because it was dark. No, she liked the night best of all. She remembered her parents laughing when they told her she was an unusual child. It made her unique, they said, for that they loved her. She realized she was frightened not only for herself but also for them. They were out there searching frantically for her, and it was dangerous for them. More for them than for her.  
  
It wasn't safe because they were there. The bad creatures, her parents told her, they had come. That was the reason they told her she couldn't wander out at night anymore like she yearned to. They had never stopped her before now. She pointed out that there were many wild animals that could hurt her and she was skilled enough with the bow to stop them. She had convinced them that it'd be fine for her to wander a small distance with her bow. Not far, but far enough to satisfy her yearning.  
  
She was dreadfully mistaken. While her arrows stopped the foul creatures, there were more that kept coming. she was left with no choice but to run. While she didn't think the nasty things had too much thinking capacity beyond attacking, yet their sheer numbers were overwhelming. Somehow despite their lack of brains, they were somehow blocking her way from getting back home. She was terrified for her parents, who were no doubt looking for her. Her mother didn't know how to defend herself at all; her father was mediocre at best.  
  
But she kept running from the vile creatures, hoping that her parents were wise enough to stay at home and wait for her. It was a hopeless hop she realized when she heard her mother crying out for her father, for her...? It was paintful for her to try to hear what her mother was saying... it was too familiar, too beloved. It was calling for her, why couldn't she remember...?  
  
The burning in her head became unbearable as she tried to recalled, tried to hear what her mother--- her amme was telling her. The agonizing pain forced her down to her knees and...  
  
She woke up from her restless sleep: the tossing and the turning, the sweat drenched sheets, the way her body trembled and shivered. She only had gotten a few hours when she woke up, hardly feeling rested at all. Tears stained her pale cheeks, tears she furiously wiped away. Why was she crying? Why couldn't she remember the dream? Other than that it was fearsome, feaful. She didn't know. She had to find adar.  
  
By the time she found where her adar was sleeping, she had calmed down mostly. Just sitting next to her adar to watch him sleep soothed away the rest of her nerves. It was when she decided to leave and not bother him that he woke up. "Elen?" came his drowsy, sleep-ridden voice. "What are you doing here?" He blinked, trying to adjust his vision to the darkness permeating the room. It was when his eyes were finished dilating enough to see in what light there was in the room that he noticed his daughter's bloodshot eyes. The redness indicated that she'd been crying not too long ago. "You've been crying. Why? What's wrong, Elen darling?"  
  
She turned away from her adar, knowing that she could never hide anything from him. "Yes," she answered in a soft voice, "I had another dream."  
  
"Nightmare," Glorfindel contradicted, grabbing hold of her to pull her into his embrace. "Will sleeping with me help chase them away?" She nodded and he smiled at her indulgently. "Good night, Elen darling. Sweet dreams."  
  
"Good night, Adar," she murmured, presing feather light kisses on his cheeks. Then she settled into his warm embrace, tucking her head underneath his chin and closing her eyes, willing herself back to sleep. He placed his own firm kiss on her forehead, easing into a position that would best accomodate his daughter's favorite sleeping position.  
  
It was her rhythmic breathing that gradually lulled him back to sleep. The next morning, wrapped in each other's arms was how Elladan and Elrohir found Glorfindel and Elen. The sight was so beautiful, and they looked so peaceful that the twins had breakfast brought up to them instead of waking them up prematurely from their blissful slumber.  
  
Besides, if Elen did turn out to Anaire's reincarnation there weren't goign to be many nights where she'd rest so peacefully ever again. The torment of Glorfindel's emerging memories had robbed the Rivendell archer of many nights of sleep. It was without a doubt going to be the same for the fragile Elen. Could she bear the burden? Could she survive such anguish?  
  
Truthfully none of them knew. Anaire had been able to, but it had taken her two hundred years to make it through the first wave of suffering. Would living through her past memories prove too unbearable that it cracked the innocent purity that Elen had now? Elrohir hoped not, he hoped that it wouldn't. But at the same time, he did want her to remember if not for him or even Celeborn but for Haldir. He could only imagine Haldir's reaction when the former March Warden discovered that his beloved Anaire had returned.  
  
He reached out with a hand to touch Anaire's--- no Elen's pale cheek, but withdrew his hand away before he touched her tender innocence. But it seemed that his movement had stirred the air or something for her pale eyes, eyes that use to be blue but seemed more translucent than anything stared straight into his soul. "Elrohir," she murmured, "Elrohir..."  
  
Having her say his name reminded him of memories he'd long suppressed of the lost Anaire. It reminded him of the firs ttime she'd said his name, the first time she'd ever spoken to him. It broke his heart to know the anguish she'd have to go through to recapture her memories. "Yes, it's me Elrohir."  
  
"I knew you before, didn't I?" she asked softly. "I am a reincarnation, aren't I? Despite what Adar says..."  
  
"Yes," he breathed out. "Yes, I think you are."  
  
"You loved her, didn't you?"  
  
So many questions were running out of Elen's mouth, so many questions that was so unlike her. But he couldn't help but answer her. "Yes, I did."  
  
"Did she--- did I love you?"  
  
It hurt, that question, it hurt to think of that. So hard had he repressed it. "She--- she loved me like a brother, I think. Only like that, family is all," he finished more bitterly than he intended to.  
  
Elen's eyes were filled with something older than herself, something that probably came from her past self. "Do you know why?"  
  
"She loved another," he answered in a rough, rasping voice.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"An elf from Lothlorien by the name of Haldir."  
  
A sharp pain made Elen gasp and Elrohir was about to reach out to steady her, but Glorfindel became instantly alert at his daughter's distress and pulled her more tightly into his embrace. "Do you hurt, Elen darling?" She nodded and tucked her head underneath her adar's chin. "Shush, it's all right. Everything's all right. Adar will keep you safe." Glorfindel's cold eyes turned to Elrohir. "You were upsetting her, Elrohir. I do not appreciate that."  
  
"I was only answering her questions."  
  
"I don't believe that, I believe---"  
  
"He didn't upset me," Elen spoke in a muffled voice, burying her face more deeply against her adar's chest. "He didn't."  
  
"Then what---?"  
  
"I mentioned something that sparked a memory," Elrohir explained. "You can't keep it hidden from her forever, Glorfindel. You know best what to expect. You have to prepare her, the memories are coming back and it's going to be hard for her. I know you love her more than anything and you don't want her to go through it, but you don't have a choice in the manner. She is going to go through this!"  
  
"Leave, Elrohir. Just leave!" Elrohir had no choice since Elen wasn't speaking on his behalf anymore, only concentrating on drawing the comfort and affection that Glorfindel was radiating off himself and into his daughter.  
  
Elen felt bad for not speaking up for Elrohir, but in truth it was too much for her to in take in one day. She had learned so much about herself, why she often had flashes, flashes of things that she didn't understand. And when he had said Haldir's name, she felt this curious tightening in her chest as if her heart was going to break at any second, at any moment. Why did it hurt so much? Why couldn't she remember who Haldir was? Even an inkling?  
  
All she felt was a horrible pain.  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Thanks for all your support. I can't thank you enough! As you can see it took me a time period to write this chapter. I don't think I've gotten over my writer's block, but I have managed to finish this portion of the story. I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but insightful reviews always help. This chapter is a bit shorter, one of the shorter ones in the Arcs (or series as I like to refer to it) but I still think that it's a good enough chapter to get the story moving along. I think I'll be skipping over a few years and moving the story faster along. Shouldn't be more than 2 chapters before we see Haldir. The half-elven thing is going to be brief, I was going to draw it out more but I don't have the heart to anymore. 


	22. Arc 3: Leaving Again

Title: In Times Like These Author: Yih  
  
22: Leaving Again (December 18, 2003)  
  
.IV.120.  
  
She was leaving again. This time it was by her own choice. She had to go. She couldn't bear to linger here any longer. Her soul cried out for Valinor. The call of the sea was pulling at her, drawing her to it. It wanted her to leave; it needed her to leave. She had to. She didn't want to leave because she would have to leave Elrohir.  
  
Did she dare tell him how she felt for him? She didn't think she could stand it if he only saw her as a niece. She wanted to be more than that. She wanted to be someone that he could fall in love with. She knew that she was thousands of years younger than him, but she felt much older than her few years. She knew it was because she was the reincarnation of Anaire.  
  
She was afraid not only would he think she was too young, but that she shouldn't make up her mind right now when she was leaving for the Undying Lands. She knew that her old life, she had been in love with an elf warrior called Haldir. But even though she was Anaire, she was still Elen. And she loved Elrohir.  
  
How could she not? He was the one that had comforted her in her nightmares, her endless and never ceasing nightmares where she had to recall all the torments of her anguished former life. He'd been there; he'd been the first. She had wanted to tell him that Anaire had truly loved him, that if he had been there like Haldir was--- Anaire would have fallen for him instead.  
  
"It's time," Legolas murmured, holding his hand out to her. She knew from past memories, Anaire's memories, her memories that Legolas had once been infatuated with her. She had been intrigued by the beautiful Mirkwood Prince. But a relationship between them was not to be. However, that hadn't prevented them from becoming good friends over the years. And it was he that offered her a spot on one of the last ships that were left to sail to Valinor.  
  
She took his hand and turned tear filled eyes to her father. Glorfindel was also going, but Elrohir and Elladan were not. She had hoped Elrohir would come to her, but he hadn't. Her beautiful pale eyes had tears that were threatening to spill down her pale cheeks. She didn't cry. She only hoped that what she did not dare to say but that she dared to write would move Elrohir to take the last ship before it was too late.  
  
What more was there in Arda? Aragorn had passed. Eldarion had been crowned King of Gondor. Arwen was fading. There was almost nothing left. She didn't understand why they wouldn't go. They said that even though they were elves, they were part of man too. They still had things they had to do. But what?  
  
"We have to board," Glorfindel reminded her, his hand holding hers tightly as he and Legolas guided her into the white ship. "The winds are about to guide us to the Undying Lands. We cannot afford to let them pass. You know the journey can only be made at an appointed time and the time is now, Elen."  
  
"I know," she whispered painfully. "I know, adar."  
  
~  
  
"She is leaving," Elladan reminded Elrohir as he watched his brother's eyes stare across the fading horizon. "You should have gone to her before it was too late. Now it's too late, Elrohir. The ship has left and you never told her how you felt for her."  
  
"You know I cannot."  
  
"Why can you not?" Elladan asked.  
  
"Because she and Haldir are meant to be. Their love is a love that crosses time and death. It will not fade. It will not die. It is what we elves have always yearned for in love--- a true and boundless love. Haldir almost faded to his death!"  
  
"But he did not," Elladan countered. "If it was truly a soulmate love, he would have faded."  
  
"You know that Anaire wanted him to live!"  
  
"You should have told her what you felt Elrohir! You should have at least told her! I have never known you to give up before, so why now?"  
  
"Because," Elrohir whispered painfully, "if I had told her, she would have stayed."  
  
"That means," Elladan began triumphantly, "that she felt the same way about you that you do about her!"  
  
"She needs to leave. If she had stayed here any longer her soul would have slowly died. The nightmares will only leave her if she leaves Middle Earth. You know that her pain is tied to these lands. If she goes to Valinor, she will be blessed with the light that is there and her sorrow and anguish will be lifted from her."  
  
"You still should have told her."  
  
"I could not bear to see her remain here in agony."  
  
It was then that Elladan noticed the letter that laid unopened on Elrohir's desk. "That is a letter from her, is it not?"  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
"Are you going to read it?"  
  
"One day. Some day."  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Thanks for all your support. This is a short chapter just to let you know that I will be trying to continue this series! Please review. 


	23. Arc 3: Reunited

Title: In Times Like These Author: Yih  
  
23: Reunited (January 19, 2004)  
  
.IV. 121.  
  
Memories crashed when she saw him again. Oh Elbereth! How much it ached inside of her to see him before her, standing there alive and well, not within her reach yet. She didn't know if he recognized her first--- or she did. Maybe it was instantaneously. It felt so right to want to run to him, but it also felt wrong. She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't. What of Elrohir?  
  
She was horribly confused as she felt her legs start running to this elf--- Haldir--- that she did not know but that she knew that the Anaire in her knew and loved so deeply, so truly, so utterly that how could this ever be wrong? But what of Elrohir? It had not felt wrong to want him even if she had known about Haldir in her memories. Oh sweet confusion and oh horrible perplexity. Where did she stand now?  
  
In his arms, in Haldir's arms--- in her soul-mate's arms? Was he though? Why did she feel such a pull to Elrohir if she was heart bound to Haldir? Why then? Wasn't such feelings and emotions like that suppose to drift away once the soul of an elf maiden found her elf lord? That as what she had read about in all the texts of the past that she could dredge up on the subject. But no, it was not the case with her--- and her soul was in turmoil because of it.  
  
"Anaire," he whispered hoarsely, his face buried in her pale wheat hair, "I thought I lost you. How? I saw you, I felt you drift to Mandos. How are you here now? So alive? So well? So warm to my touch?"  
  
"Because she has been reincarnated as my daughter," Glorfindel declared, his eyes watching the scene with a calm acceptance. He knew that he couldn't stop Elen from being with Haldir, not from what he'd known about Anaire's past love of Haldir. But this was right. It wasn't right between Elrohir and Elen, no matter how much Elen insisted that she love Haldir. Hadn't this proven it? When she'd run into Haldir's arms when she had never seen the elf before? "Her name is Elen."  
  
"Elen," Haldir whispered, his face lifting so that he could brush his lips against her cheeks, then her lips, "you are Elen, but you are still my Anaire--- are you not? Or are you a dream that my weary and worn mind has conjured up? I have dreamt so much of you that I do not know whether or not to believe that you are real. You feel warm to my touch, but my delusions have this frightening reality about them."  
  
Her heart hurt to hear him say these things. Oh, Haldir! "This is true," she murmured back, her lips kissing him back. "This is real." Her tongue traced his lips. "This is not a dream." Her lips pressed against his firmly. "This is too good to be a dream."  
  
"It is."  
  
They had found each other. Finally. More than a hundred years later. More than the miles of Arda. through the distance of the sea to Valinor--- they were finally in each other's arms--- and it had only taken Anaire's soul the journey back to life and the pain of memories relived to find Haldir again.  
  
-  
  
.IV. 200.  
  
She was young, very young for an elf--- still young for a half elf. Most elves married when they were near a thousand years old, but she was not even 200 years old. But she could not mistake Haldir's intention when he'd gotten down on his knees in front of her favorite tree. He was going to ask her, and if he was asking her--- that meant he had gotten Glorfindel's approval.  
  
It had been nearly 80 glorious years that they had spent together. They had learned to love each other all over again, and her heart's indecision about Elrohir had faded--- especially as she had come to the realization that Elrohir likely was never coming back to her--- that he was never going to journey home to Valinor. It had been 80 years since she'd left Arda, and it was 200 years since the Age of Men had begun and the Age of Elves had ended. If he ever was going to come. it should have been at the time when she had left.  
  
So the memory of him had dulled into a colorless vision of what had been. In her heart now, she had grown to love Haldir absolutely--- a fresh love that came from their love of the night and of the forest. The two of them were so much alike, and he--- unlike her father--- was more than willing to teach her how to fight and battle even if it was unnecessary now. Glorfindel thought it wasteful since the world was so beautiful and would remain so forever. But he and others that had been part of wars past never let their skills go to waste--- so why could she not learn?  
  
Haldir was happy to instruct her, more than happy to teach her of her best weapon--- the elven knives and tease her about how she was still lacking with the sword, but for her skill with the bow--- he left that to a master, Legolas. Legolas had come to mean as much as Elladan to her, a brother and comrade. She still thought it inexplicably sad that he had never found anyone to love, and wished that he would.  
  
Sometimes, she thought he would look to her with want in his eyes, but whenever she thought that--- she thought it was silly. Legolas was like an older brother to her and nothing more, and he knew--- of all elves since he had been with Anaire through the torturous journey--- should know that Haldir was the only elf she had ever given her heart to fully.  
  
"Will you marry me, Elen?"  
  
She glanced down into his beautiful celestial eyes. How she loved Haldir, how she loved him so. "Yes, my love," she whispered. "Yes, I'll marry you."  
  
He pulled her down into his arms and held her tightly to him, like he'd never let her go no matter how much time would past nor how the years would fade into the skyline of eternity. It didn't matter. his love was timeless and she felt secure and safe within his arms like she had never had before. Elrohir. was a thought and a memory. Haldir. Haldir was her beloved, her soul-mate, and her husband-to-be.  
  
"I have waited for so long," he whispered hoarsely to her, "and I have never loved you more than now."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Love is eternal," he declared fiercely. "My love for you is forever."  
  
~  
  
Author's Note: Wee! Another short chapter, my deepest and sincerest apologies. I can't seem to help it, but at least I posted again--- eh? There will be one or two more before this story wraps up. We get to see Elen have her first baby ;p and see Elrohir re-enter her life. ahhh. how will that go? Please review. Thanks! 


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